


Sanguine

by Silent_So_Long



Series: Kreuzberg Dragonshifters [3]
Category: Rammstein
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dragons, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Cover Art, Digital Art, Dragons, Dragonshifters, M/M, Other, Sexual Content, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Urban Fantasy, Were-Creatures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-09
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-05-27 12:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6283987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silent_So_Long/pseuds/Silent_So_Long
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Richard and Paul's new life together changes still further when a new gastro-pub opens in Charlottenburg,</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

[ ](http://s1368.photobucket.com/user/paulchen2/media/SANGUINETHREE_zps59qzgibb.jpg.html)

The scent of cooked meat and the greasy scent of fried onions and potatoes wafted around Paul as he made his way into Comic World; the aroma mingled oddly with the scent of paper that always greeted him when entering the store he owned with Flake. The store itself felt cool against his skin, body overheated from the summer sun of outside; a headache tugged at the backs of his eyes from where he'd screwed them up against the brightness. He cursed himself silently and his own inability to remember his sunglasses; whilst his body now remained inured to extremes of heat, his eyes were more sensitive to both sunlight and to darkness since his change. 

Paul found himself smiling, as thoughts of Richard wandered warmly through his mind. Since meeting Richard, a lot had happened; Paul had found himself a new lover, a sea of tranquility in the otherwise previously dry desert of his love-life, through quite literally running the other man over, after a particularly ironic and heinously bad blind date. Richard had then moved into Paul's flat, became his life-partner and also, as it turned out, was a dragonshifter who'd chosen Paul for his soul-bonded mate, complete with a synesthesia-based emotional link. That Paul had allowed Richard to bite him, which therefore caused Paul's own transformation into a dragonshifter and even welcomed the change, still came as a source of both surprise and amusement to Paul, yet still he was yet to feel any kind of regret or guilt over his transformation. Secretly, he enjoyed the fact that he was different to everyone else, that he harboured a secret that no one else knew or could even guess at. Not even Flake, co-owner of Comic World and who had, until recently, been Paul's flat-mate, didn't know what Paul, and Richard by proxy, really were. Paul wasn't sure when he'd tell Flake the news, or if he even would; Paul thought that Flake should only know if he needed to know, and he hadn't needed to know yet. 

Thoughts of Flake brought his wandering thoughts back to the present again, and Paul hurried his way down to the counter at the back of the store, bag of greasy food still blissfully hot. It was lunchtime, and to make a change from baguettes and soft pretzels, Paul had left the store in order to buy burgers and chips, and paper cups of sweet, syrupy cola. On the way to the burger stand, he'd dropped in on Richard, where he worked at the luthier's a few doors down from the comic store. They'd chatted for a while, and Paul had left only when Till, the owner of the luthiers, had started making warmly joking admonishments about how Paul was in danger of monopolising his staff. Paul had hurried away with many a kiss bestowed upon Richard's smilingly soft mouth, and many more silver-gold dragon kisses, to leave reluctantly and to continue on his way to buy the lunch for himself and for Flake.

"I've bought burgers with all the trimmings, two portions of chips and two large colas," Paul sang out as he slapped the greasy, crinkling paper sack of food down upon the counter in front of Flake. 

The other man barely looked up, too busily invested in what looked to be an A4 flyer for a bar or restaurant splayed out in front of him; Paul had missed that flyer with the corner of the greasy sack by millimetres, a fact that Flake soon predictably complained about.

"Don't mess up my poster, Paul," Flake said, as Paul opened the employee's gate to shimmy behind the counter. 

"I missed it, didn't I?" Paul huffed good-naturedly at him. "What even is it, anyway? An ad for a restaurant?"

"Yeah, sort of. Gastro-pub, actually," Flake said, with evident interest. "It opened in Charlottenberg a few weeks ago; the assistant manager dropped in and asked if I could display advertising flyers on our notice-board." 

He gestured towards the board in question, populated by similar flyers for local businesses, and more than a few out of date posters for old punk concerts that Paul couldn't bring himself to throw out. Once again, he made the promise to himself to frame the posters, and to hang them on the wall properly. 

"I said yeah, provisionally, but that I'd have to ask you. You're the big boss man around here," Flake said, eyes rolling in sudden sarcastic disdain behind his glasses. "She even left a stack of menus and business cards behind to hand ou to our customers, just on the off-chance that you actually agreed." 

"Oh?" Paul asked, in interest, as he dug a burger out of the sack with one hand and reached for one of the mentioned menus with the other. "Nice, is it?"

"Sounds all right," Flake said, with a shrug. "I suppose. For a place where people gather. You know, socially." 

By Flake's seemingly dismissive description, Paul assumed that the place was actually top-class; the less enthusiastic that Flake appeared, the more interested he actually was. He was like a wonky barometer that seemingly only Paul, and Flake's partner Till, could correctly decipher. Paul flicked through the four page menu for himself, impressed by the glossy paper and the professional layout; even the name sounded intriguing - Sanguine. It brought up images of lazy evenings, filled with companionable talk and heady, home-cooked food and dizzying drink, right before the blood-hungry vampires came. Paul huffed at his own blood-related folly, and turned his thoughts again to the menu. Paul thought that it looked as though the place had some decent food, with an equally impressive array of alcohol at affordable prices. That Charlottenberg wasn't too far away from Alexanderplatz wasn't lost on him, and he wondered, silently, whether it would be a good idea to drop in one night, with Richard. Flake, seemingly, had had the same idea.

"You should take that boyfriend of yours in there, Paulchen," he said, with a smile, before he popped a chip into his mouth and chewed slowly. "Have one of these date things everybody's going on about." 

"I prefer the term - _'life-partner'_ \- thanks, Flake, and you're talking out of your arse again. You go on dates, don't you? That's what Till's for, isn't it?" Paul asked, with an amused huff from around his burger. "And eat your burger before it gets cold. You know you complain when your food gets greasy and slimy." 

"Fuck you," Flake said, after a brief pause spent in digging out the burger in question and another large and greasy handful of chips. "And don't change the subject."

"I'm not changing the subject. We're still talking about food, aren't we?" Paul pointed out, from around a stuffed mouthful of bread and beef.

"Maybe so, but we're not talking about this gastro-pub, are we?" Flake said. "Seriously, take your life-partner with you."

The way that he said the words 'life-partner' indicated that he'd implied quotation marks, complete with waggling fingers, despite the fact that his actual fingers were still wrapped firmly about his burger and chips. Paul smiled, mouth too filled with food to pass comment immediately.

"How is Richard, anyway?" Flake asked, when Paul didn't immediately answer after finally clearing his mouth of food. "Still all right, are you?"

"Of course we are. Never better," Paul replied, in genuine confusion, as he glanced up sharply at Flake. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"No reason," Flake said, with a shrug and smile barely hidden by his burger bun. "Only I haven't heard you talking about him in about an hour, so I thought something had gone wrong."

"Only because I haven't bloody been here, you shit-head," Paul laughed. "And I do not talk about him that much."

"Like hell you don't," Flake grumbled, but by the soft smile he gave Paul, Paul could tell that the other man truly didn't mind, no matter what he said.

That Flake worried, and cared, about him was obvious, and now that Richard had entered Paul's life, Flake worried still more, that they'd break up, that Richard would break Paul's heart, that Richard would die a horrible flame-fuelled death. Paul never understood quite where Flake got such depressive thoughts from, yet he knew the other man well enough by now, to realise that that was just a natural part of his character. 

"I will take one of these home, as it happens," Paul finally conceded, from around a mouthful of bread wrapped meat and fried onions, as he tapped one of the menus with an outstretched greasy finger. "I'll bring it up with Reesh tonight when we both get home; I'll see what he says. Might be nice to go on a date in an actual gastro-pub. I've never been to one before. You know, Flake, you should go with Till. We could even go on a double date, one time." 

"Yeah," Flake said, noncommittally, although Paul wasn't quite sure what he was actually referring, and agreeing, to. 

Flake could be willfully inscrutable at times, and sometimes Paul found it better to leave the other man to his own devices and to reveal things at his own pace. To push him woud only provoke him into sarcastic little paroxysms, and Paul, whilst he thought it funny, often couldn't be bothered with dealing with a catty Flake. 

Paul continued eating his chips and his burger in relative peace, chewing slowly at the food; whilst it was greasy and undoubtedly packed full of cholesterol, it still was a good meal, worth the impending heart attack for a bi-monthly treat. Flake seemed to enjoy the meal less, yet Paul couldn't remember Flake actually enjoying a meal, ever. He could count on one hand the amount of times that the other man actually complimented food over the course of any given three years. Still, Paul knew that if he didn't ensure that Flake ate, then the other man probably would forego food entirely, more out of absent-mindedness than through any other reason. Flake seemed to remember to feed his new cat more often than he did himself most days, although Till seemed to be doing quite well in ensuring that Flake at least remembered to eat semi-regularly.

Flake dug around in the paper bag again, fingers grasping and digging out the packages of chips; he huffed when he found the third burger, stashed at the bottom of the bag. Paul had almost forgotten it, distracted by Flake, and his questions about Richard and the menu from Sanguine that he'd been flopping about whilst reading. 

"Who's the third burger for, Paul?" Flake asked, in genuine confusion. "Did you forget that there's only two of us, here?"

"That's for me," Paul replied, guiltily, with a hasty smile, but didn't hasten to add why he wanted the second burger.

Since his change into a dragonshifter, he'd been packing away the food like it was going out of fashion, changed metabolism requiring more sustenance in which to survive. 

"Jesus, Paulchen; I don't where you put all this crap, honestly. Are you sure you're all right? You're not ill, are you?" Flake asked, and there was genuine concern in his gaze, his expression at that. 

"No, I'm not ill," Paul replied, in surprise. "Never been better, actually."

That last was true. Since his transformation, he hadn't suffered anything more horrible than a headache. 

"You really have been eating a lot, lately. I thought you had worms, or something," Flake said, partially turning away yet Paul could still see that the other man was worried despite his diffident, almost-joking tone. "Or that you were pregnant. Richard hasn't knocked you up, has he?" 

"How the hell can Reesh make me pregnant, Flake?" Paul asked with a sudden laugh. "Last time I looked, I still was a man, you know. And before you ask again, I can assure you that I don't have worms, either. The very thought of it."

Paul didn't want to add that he wasn't sure that dragons even suffered from worms; he still had a lot to learn about his own new and improved anatomy. Flake huffed but he didn't look entirely satisfied with Paul's assurances. He stared at Paul's abdomen as though checking for visible signs of illness or pregnancy still, and he shook his head, when he found that Paul looekd as normal as he ever did. 

"I worry, Paul. You've been different since you've been with Richard," Flake finally murmured.

"Different? Different, how?" Paul asked, even as he ripped another huge mouthful from his burger and chewed with continued noisy enjoyment.

"Your eating habits for a start, but I've already just said about that. You seem happier," Flake said, before he checked himself. "Not that that's a problem, in and of itself, mind you. There's just something else that I can't quite put my finger on, though. Like you've changed somehow, but I don't know what it is."

"Like you said yourself, I'm happy. I'm in love, aren't I?" Paul said, with a snort. "You should be over the moon that I've finally settled down. You've moaned at me for long enough about my complete lack of a love life, before Richard came along." 

Flake grunted, and looked about to argue further; he then sighed and by the look in his eyes, Paul could tell that he was about to drop the subject. For that he was grateful. Flake was getting too close to the truth about why Paul was possibly different; it didn't seem right to Paul to keep something like his true nature from him for much longer, yet it wasn't the sort of thing one broached over coffee and cake in the afternoon, or in their current case, burgers and chips. 

"I am glad you're happy, now," Flake said, conceding to the unspoken fact that he never would put his finger on what was so different about Paul. "Seriously. Richard's good for you." 

"Says the guy who thought he was a murderer not so long ago," Paul teased him, gently.

"I was wrong, wasn't I?" Flake said, with a disgusted, sarcastic snort. "It happens. Get over it." 

Paul laughed at that, and bit into his burger again; he finished the remainder of his greasy treat in a few seconds and reached for the second one, shoving chips into his mouth with his other hand as he did so. Flake made a disgusted sound and shook his head, before he turned away again; Paul was glad for the fact that he hadn't said anything, even though it wouldn't have been the first time that the other man had complained about his eating habits, or referred to Paul as an animal because of it. 

Paul began to eat his second burger, tearing into the meat and bread treat with as much enjoyment and hunger as he had the first one. Flake seemed to be eating as slowly as he ever did, distracted by his own thoughts, that Paul was rarely ever privy to. Paul continued to scrutinise the menu from Sanguine, but otherwise didn't say anything more until their meal was finished, and the rubbish was disposed of in the bin. Flake looked satisfied and happy on a full stomach, and Paul certainly felt better than he had in a while, now that he had a full belly. He didn't think of the gastropub again for the rest of the afternoon, too busy with dealing with customers or ordering stock to think of much else.He also tacked up the poster for Sanguine on the noticeboard and made sure the business cards and menus that Sanguine's assistant manager had left with them were displayed in a prominent place.

****


	2. Chapter 2

Paul sighed, blinking slowly in tiredness as he locked Comic World's door behind Flake and himself; the working day was over and whilst some of the heat had gone out of the day, there still was some remaining humidity lingering with the sun dipping lower towards the horizon, hidden as it was behind the buildings of Berlin. 

"Hey," a soft voice came from nearby and Paul was smiling even before he'd turned around. 

He'd recognise Richard's voice anywhere, after all, even if he hadn't felt the wash of cream relaxation and gold love that poured through their bond. Till was lingering nearby, quietly watching them as Richard leant in to press kisses against Paul's mouth, soft and sweet and warmly welcome, interspersed by silver-flecked golden dragon kisses, that were more private and unseen by the outside world. Paul returned both kinds of kisses easily, smiling into every one, even as he thought, with a chuckle, that it seemed almost as though Richard hadn't seen him for a week. 

"What's so funny?" Richard murmured against his lips. "I can feel your laughter." 

"We only saw each other at lunchtime," Paul murmured back. "If I didn't know better, I would have thought you hadn't seen me in a week." 

"It feels like I haven't," Richard insisted, even as he folded broad arms around Paul's body with a laugh. 

Flake and Till were too deep in conversation now to take much notice of them; Paul leant his forehead against Richard's shoulder and breathed in the scent of the other man, all soap and cologne and, beneath it all, the scent of Richard and the reptilian aroma of his dragon. He sighed, comforted by the familiar smells that he assocated with love and with home, and he felt Richard's gentle amusement drifting through their link, mere seconds before the other man pressed a gentle kiss against Paul's temple. He roused when he heard Till's voice floating over, amusement turning the other man's tone rough and dark with hidden laughter.

"Mein Gott, get a room, you two," Till said. "No one wants to see you making out on the street." 

"We're not making out," Richard said, immediately. "Yet." 

That last comment, small though it was, made Paul laugh and Flake grimace sourly, even as Richard slid one hand down Paul's back to squeeze Paul's butt gently.

"Besides, we have a room, already," Richard continued, as he turned a leer and a slow wink upon Paul himself.

"Well, then, I suggest you go and make use of it," Till said, even as a rough chuckle dropped from his lips. "Which reminds me, I think we all have homes to go to. I think you two are gonna be kept busy tonight, at least."

"You bet," Richard said, even as Paul turned away in sudden embarrassment. 

Paul was glad for the fact that they then made their goodbyes, saving him further embarrassment and blushes from Richard's lewd comments.

****

Paul didn't think about the new gastropub until later that evening, after they'd reached their apartment in Kreuzberg; even then he only remembered due to emptying out the pockets of his trousers in preperation for slipping them into the washing machine, and pulling the many-folded copy of the menu from where it had been slipped within his back pocket. He laid the menu aside and continued loading up the washing machine, slamming the door closed and pouring in the washing liquid, just as Richard wandered in, holding a soiled shirt.

"Is it too late to put this in, Paulchen?" he asked, as he flopped the shirt on top of the machine.

"Nee, you're all right," Paul said, with a slight smile at his lover. "I haven't started the wash cycle, yet."

Richard hmmed distractedly, before he plucked the abandoned menu from where Paul had tossed it earlier. 

"What's this?" he asked, with interested tones. 

"Oh, just something that Flake was given, earlier," Paul murmured, still distracted by the washing machine. "Some sort of advertising schtick for a new gastropub, that's opened in Charlottenburg." 

"Oh? I think someone came into the luthier's earlier, carrying a bunch of leaflets and the like for this," Richard said, a little distractedly himself. "She did try giving Till some of her posters, but he threw them away as soon as she left and I didn't get the chance to see them. He was muttering about canvassers being no better, and more persistent, than the army or something. I didn't dare ask what it was she was advertising."

"Well, now you know," Paul said, with a smile. "It actually sounds quite nice, if the menu's to be believed. Nice food with decent prices and their beer? They have a lot on offer." 

"Beer? Hmm, well, maybe we should go, then," Richard said, voice perking with definite interest. "My treat." 

"Yeah?" Paul asked, as he turned his surprised gaze upon Richard, suddenly. 

"This weekend all right for you?" Richard asked, and suddenly he looked at Paul as though he expected him to turn him down. "You haven't got anything else planned, have you?"

"What, with all of these myriad lovers I've suddenly magically acquired?"Paul asked, with a sudden, affectionately teasing, laugh. "As if." 

"You knew what I meant," Richard replied, as he laughingly pushed Paul's shoulder lightly with one hand. "I didn't know whether you had something else planned for us." 

"No," Paul said, as he shook his head at the other man. "Well, nothing other than our usual weekly flight out, anyway." 

They shared a smile then, gentle and secret as each man thought of the hours they managed to snatch in their other form, sailing across German skies with wings outspread, revelling in the freedom that dragonflight gave them. They went every weekend, on Saturdays and Sundays, and sometimes more often, if they could manage it; Richard had already taught Paul how to fly safely, how to hunt, how to feed and to exist in dragon form, all things he'd had to learn the hard way on his own. Paul had never understood how Richard had figured all that information out alone, yet he supposed that it was through necessity and that Richard had had no choice but to do it the hard way; Paul was glad that he wasn't required to do the same, and that Richard, by proxy, also was no longer on his own anymore. 

"Come on, let me just get this washing started and then we can have dinner," Paul said, with a sigh, that was more contented than anything else.

"I'll get the food started. Spinach and feta pancakes sound acceptable?" Richard asked. "Or would you rather something else?"

"No, Reesh, that sounds lovely to me," Paul said, with a nod, and an appreciative grin.

"Pancakes, it is, then," Richard replied, with an amused smile of his own, even as he turned away to pad from the room.

Paul busied himself with setting the washing machine to spinning, noisy life, before he made his way into the kitchen again, where Richard was pouring frozen spinach into a simmering saucepan. Paul helped for a while, yet he did little in the grand scheme of things; Richard was a better cook than Paul had ever been, despite the fact that Paul himself was not exactly a bad cook. He was more a cook of necessity than one possessing great skill as Richard did. Paul watched his lover intermittently, whilst he helped Richard with various tasks about the kitchen; he decided that he liked watching Richard at work, and the expression of intense concentration that always took residence upon his lover's face, coupled with the strong wash of bright orange contentment that Richard always felt whilst slaving over some new dish or other . Richard's eyes always turned darker than usual whenever he was concentrating hard on something, whilst still retaining that beautifully odd translucent sheen that marked him out as a dragonshifter, a sheen that Paul himself now possessed since his change. Richard caught Paul watching and smiled, a little confused.

"What?" he asked, a little self-consciously. 

"I like watching you work," Paul replied, with a smile. "You get so intense. The only other time that I see you as intense is when we're in bed together."

"Sounds ominous," Richard huffed, in amusement, as he stirred the spinach carefully before he set the spoon aside to pass Paul to get the pepper. 

"No, it's nice," Paul assured him. "You really look as though you're focussed on nothing but me, or on the food. I love it. It shows you care." 

"I do care about you. A great deal, actually," Richard said, immediately, with a small, embarrassed smile, before he leant in to press a smacking kiss upon Paul's forehead. 

Paul laughed, as Richard fingers trailed over his abdomen, prolonging contact for as long as possible as the other man moved to pass him. Pauk shuddered pleasurably beneath the contact, arousal passing through his body to settle and to coil in his abdomen and lower still. Richard's nostrils widened, catching the scent of it and he looked up at Paul, dilated pupils black against the translucent green-blue of his eyes. 

"Later," Richard promised, his tone a dark and rumbling growl. 

Paul nodded, voice roobbed by the depth of his arousal and lust clogging his throat. He swallowed and continued helping with the cooking, yet even then he wasn't doing much beyond buttering the rolls and stirring the pots. In time they settled at the kitchen table, forks flashing in the light as they dipped and scraped at plate and pancake alike; each pancake was flopped upon the plates with a healthy covering of creamed spinach and crumbled feta cheese and Paul found that it tasted better than it looked, and better still than it smelled. He inhaled the pancake hungrily, shovelling great chunks of it into his mouth, followed lustily by great chunks of bread. Several times, Richard had to laughingly tell him to slow down, or else he'd choke. Paul tried to listen, yet the food was so delicious that he went back to gobbling again in no time. Richard still kept an eye upon him, smiling and shaking his head over Paul's obvious enjoyment over the meal; Paul even asked for a second helping, which in and of itself wasn't an unusual occurence yet that time, Richard knew that it was becasue he'd enjoyed the meal as much as his dragon's stomach demanded more to keep him filled. 

Paul, that time, watched Richard rustle up a replica duo of pancakes, and spoon them out onto the used plates coupled with the creamed spinach sauce. Paul ate that pancake almost as swiftly as the first, loud near orgasmic noises of great enjoyment filling the air. He felt Richard's hand suddenly descend upon his own, fingers rubbing soothing patterns against his knuckles, coupled with a bright wash crimson caution, as though in reminder to slow down again. Paul heeded him that time, stomach growling beneath the weight of so much good food filling it, and he pushed the plate away once he'd finished, scraped clean of every last scrap placed upon it. Depsite the fact that he was filled with spinach and with pancake, Paul still found room for rich and heady chocolate fudge cake, liberally smeared with chocolate buttercream; it made it even better when he found out that Richard had made that too. Paul had to muse to himself that it almost was as good as the recipe that had been handed down through his own family; Richard had obviously made a good guess as to how make the cake for himself. With a few minor adjustments and it'd be spot on, Paul knew. 

"Bloody hell, Reesh, keep on cooking like this and I just might marry you," Paul groaned as he forked another mouthful of chocolate cake into his mouth.

"Keep on eating like that and I might just ask you," Richard countered, with a laugh almost hidden by his own sudden mouthful of chocolate cake. 

Paul smiled in pleasure at Richard's words and reached out to take Richard's hand; Richard smiled and squeezed Paul's fingers gently. Paul made one last loud noise of appreciation as the last chocolatey bite was swallowed.

"Beautiful," he said, as he pushed the now empty plate away reluctantly. "And I meant both you and the cake, by the way, Reesh."

"Thanks," Richard said, obvious pleasure decorating his face and filtering through their bond over Paul's compliment. "Coffee?"

"Please," Paul returned, with a nod. 

Richard stood with a groan and began clearing the plates away whilst the kettle boiled. Paul helped, chatting loudly and at great length about work, about films, about music and books; Richard chipped in on occasion, yet mostly he was content to allow Paul to do most of the talking as usual. The kettle boiled long before they were finished, yet they continued washing up and placing the plates and cutlery away, re-boiling the ketle when the last pot, last spatula was finally put away. Once the coffees were made, they took their mugs into the living room, to settle before the TV and a repeat showing of an old episode of The X Files.

Once the episode had finished, they retired to bed, both winding together beneath the sheets, hands finding bodies and fingers caressing scraps of exposed skin. Paul felt Richard's mouth against his neck, surprisingly sharp teeth leaving little nips against willing flesh as the other man travelled down Paul's body, until Richard had reached Paul's cock. Paul felt the other man slide his pyjama bottoms down, to ease his cock from his boxers; Paul groaned out an aroused groan when he felt Richard's mouth slide over his cock, wet and warm and gentle as he began sucking him beneath the covers. Paul's groans grew deeper, more pronounced and prolonged as Richard's movements sped up, tongue and lips and fingers laving and stroking and pleasuring at his length. Paul's hips moved in time with Richard's mouth, hand resting upon the back of the other man's head, until Richard suddenly took him deeper and swallowed around the tip of him; Paul came with a loud, deep groan of completion before he laid against the sheets, as Richard kissed and stroked his way up his body, pushing Paul's t-shirt up in his wake until it bunched somewhere beneath his armpits. Paul struggled out of and away from his t-shirt, leaving his torso bare and he felt Richard's hands caressing him again, fingers playing with his nipples and dipping down, touching all the places that felt good and even some that tickled. Paul could feel Richard's growing pleasure and arousal building through their link, flooding his head with bright washes of happy colours and he sighed beneath the warmth of it all; he only hoped that Richard was receiving just as much happiness, with the same intensity as he was. 

Paul returned the favour, hands stroking and caressing at Richard's body, enjoying the soft dips and curves of his lover, hands returning again and again to his lover's butt, massaging him, squeezing him, hips rising to meet hips as Richard bit him again and again and again, leaving marks and weals against his skin. Paul groaned every time, as Richard moved and sucked bruises into his skin, leaving his mark upon him in more ways than one. Paul enjoyed it all, enjoyed the feel of Richard's hands upon him, wringing groans from him when the other man pinched him, twisted him, caressed him, outright groped him. 

Paul mourned the loss of his lover's weight and his warmth when Richard moved away, yet he soon returned, to manouvre Paul upon his stomach; Paul groaned, noises muffled by the pillow beneath his face as Richard began preparing him, fingers slick and confident, spreading and parting and working at him until he was stretched enough to take Richard comfortably. Paul felt the warm press of Richard's lips between his shoulderblades, and the soft whispered - _I love you_ \- murmured against his skin. Paul was incoherent with desire and could not reply, yet he knew that Richard realised how much he was loved in return by the blast of silvery-gold that Paul poured into Richard's body. He waited for interminable seconds for his lover to roll on a condom until Richard returned, to guide himself into Paul with one fluid thrust; Paul cried out, yet it was one of pleasure rather than pain, arousal thrumming through his body again at the reality of being joined to his lover, his mate, his chosen one. 

Richard began moving against him, hips thrusting harshly into Paul, and Paul thrust back awkwardly, wanting more of Richard, more of everything, and Richard thrust harder, faster, more deeply into him and Paul could feel the poolings of another orgasm gathering in his abdomen. He went with it, did not fight it and he came, yet his climax was dry so soon after his first, yet no less pleasurable for that. He felt the odd shuddering breaths that Richard always took before climax vibrating against his back, before Paul felt the sharp bite of Richard's teeth against his shoulder mere seconds before Richard released; blood trickled against Paul's shoulder from where Richard had bitten deeply, soon licked away by an apologetic tongue. Paul didn't care, about the pain or the feel of blood against his skin, however; Richard often bit and drew blood during sex and Paul had surprised himself by enjoying it, enjoying the bites and the bruises and the rough treatment. The fact that Richard seemed to enjoy biting him was a bonus; Paul's dragon body could take more punishment than a human's could and could heal in a fraction of the time. 

"You are mine, my chosen one," Richard murmured finally against Paul's throat.

"As you are mine, my mated one," Paul murmured back, with a smile.

He felt Richard's lips press against his shoulder in a grateful, warm kiss, before they lay motionless in each other's arms, both content to just lay there, to enjoy each other's company for a while longer in warmth, and in silence.


	3. Chapter 3

The remainder of the week passed quickly and pleasantly enough, with Paul and Flake selling more than they expected of their stock. The business in comics, whilst still niche for the most part, was picking up, aided in no small part by the influx of comic related movies and TV shows that were airing on cinema and home screens alike. Paul and Flake both placed orders for specific, hard-to-find comics, including publications from England, for some of their more discerning customers. 

The days grew unseasonably hotter as the week wound down to the weekend. Paul had long since noticed that the heat did little to bother him, however; his dragon blood seemed, instead, to thrive on it, whereas Flake merely wilted and sweated uncomfortably in the heat, swearing and cursing at Paul's sudden ability to thrive, to cope, to even seem to blossom beneath almost desert-dry temperatures. The brightness of the days was the only thing that bothered Paul, however, blazing yellow sun hammering against his sensitive eyes to produce headaches of varying concentrations, to mild, easily ignored ones through to murderous-rage-inducing migraines. 

"You know, they're saying that the weather is unnatural,"Flake said, when Thursday dawned hot and humid and unbearable.

"Who does?" Paul asked, distractedly, as he swallowed some paracetemol with great, sucking draughts of water. 

"I don't know. The so-called weather experts," Flake replied, with a shrug. 

"How can you be an expert on weather? Do they create some for themselves?" Paul asked, still a little distracted. 

"Of course they can't," Flake said, with a sudden, snorted laugh of disbelief. "It's all done by observation and research, isn't it?" 

"Funny thing to want to research," Paul said, with a shrug. "They always invariably get it wrong, anyway. It's like the weather-people on TV. They never seem quite certain what they're reporting on, like they're guessing or something. Might as well just say - look out the window and decide for yourself." 

Flake laughed and nodded at that, before he squinted at the newspaper he'd been reading again.

"Well, they're right about the unseasonable heat," he said, quietly. "They can't seem to find a reason for it. By rights, we should be having storms and shitty weather. Everyone else is, except for Berlin, apparently." 

"Like they said, it's unseasonable," Paul shrugged, already bored and turning away. "There's probably some explanation for it. Anyway, d'you want a cold drink?" 

"Wouldn't say no," Flake said, as he closed his newspaper with a determined slap and folded it sharply in half. 

Paul nodded, and went into the staff room, to pull out a couple of bottles of Spezi from the small fridge they kept in there.

****

Saturday dawned in the same way as it usually did, and the morning seemed impossibly hotter than it had been in previous days. Richard still was fast asleep when Paul awoke, eyelids shut fast aganst sleeping eyes, lips parted and one cheek mashed tightly against the pillow; sleep always made Richard looked younger somehow, more fragile than in his waking state yet Paul knew that Richard neither was, nor would appreciate, actually being called fragile. Paul watched him for a while, until the other man began to stir awake, to gravitate towards Paul instinctively without ever opening his eyes; Richard's hand moved, fingers splaying to connect finally with Paul's shoulder, curving round and stroking against his heat, and his sweating skin. Paul sighed in contentment and continued to watch, as Richard's eyes drifted open and a smile curved at his lover's lips.

"Hallo, my lovely," Paul said, voice pitched low almost to a whisper.

"Hallo, in turn," Richard murmured, scooting forward across the sweaty, rumpled sheets to press a kiss against Paul's waiting mouth.

Paul closed his eyes, and opened his mouth when he felt the soft press of Richard's tongue against the seam of his lips, wet and gently stroking inside his mouth in familiarly tender caresses. Paul moaned slightly when he felt Richard's hand travelling down his body to cup aginst his groin; Richard's fingers teased a partial erection with just a few movements of his hand, interest and arousal a gentle sleepy cerise exchanged between their two bodies. Paul sighed in contentment when Richard drew away, a slight frown of concentration rucking the skin between the other man's brows as his hand bore down harder upon Paul's cock, hand rubbing faster until finally, finally, Paul was fully erect beneath his ministrations. 

Richard eased on top of Paul, carefully, so that his erection aligned with Paul's own, hips soon buffeting against hips gently. Paul groaned and clamped both hands upon Richard's butt, bore down as Richard picked up the pace, thrusting against him harshly, riding him despite the clothes that still seperated them. Paul cried out and thrust awkwardly back, feeling Richard's hardness bearing down upon him and rubbing pleasurably against him; he came, hips arching up as he released hard within the trapping confines of his boxers, Richard's name a high, almost embarrassing whine in the dimness of their bedroom.

Richard swore when he heard the need, the want, the sheer tender desperation trapped within Paul's voice and he thrust harder, more desperately, rocking against his lover until finally, he came, climax a blinding gold-flecked red light behind Paul's eyes and a keen of Paul's name upon Richard's lips. Richard slumped down upon Paul, shifting halfway off when Paul laughingly complained, strong hands shoving against soft abdomen as he did so. They lay there for a while longer, exchanging soft, lingering kisses and equally tender caresses, until they had to finally concede defeat to the daily grind of their lives. 

They slithered out of bed, Paul heading to the bathroom first before Richard joined him, both men standing beneath the flowing waters of the shower head as they sponged shower gel onto each other's bodies. They towelled each other dry once they were finished, before both men dressed in the clothes they'd picked out for the day ahead. They shared a hasty breakfast, once they'd made their way into the kitchen, before heading outside into the super-heated morning; Richard drove that day, strong hands angling Paul's car through the traffic towards Alexanderplatz and teh stores in which they worked.

****

Paul was glad for the fact that the working day finally was over, and he rushed home as fast as he could, cursing the traffic that slowed his car and his progress to Kreuzberg. Richard had had to drop off a customer's fully repaired guitar to an apartment block close by to where Richard and Paul lived, and so was not at the Luthiers when Paul had called in. Till had grinned and nodded at him, and assured him that he'd send Paul's life-partner a text message to meet Paul at home once he was finished. Paul was glad for the fact that Richard had utilised one of the trams to get to Kreuzberg, instead of borrowing Till's car; it would have only slowed them down still further if they'd had to return the vehicle again to its rightful owner.

The door to the apartment proved to be another obstruction in a seemingly long string of them, Paul's excited hands missing the key-hole not once but twice, until he managed to fumble the key into the lock at last. The door slammed harshly against the hallway wall as he bundled through the portal left behind, slamming his bags from the day upon the ground. He checked his watch again, despite the fact that he already knew that he was running late, and cursed again at the time, or rather, lack of it. 

"Reesh?" he yelled, on the off-chance that Richard already was there.

He wasn't surprised when he didn't hear his lover reply; the utter stillness and silence and the fact that he couldn't sense his mate in a wash of colours in the flat had tipped him off to Richard's absence as soon as he'd spilled through the front door. Whenever Richard was there, he filled the place with a buzzing, electrified presence, brooding and dark and filled with golden love for Paul and Paul was always aware of that particular scent he had - reptilian, yet oddly sweet and musky to his senses. That afternoon, however, there were only the remnants left behind from that morning, from Richard's continued presence, like a low-level charge in the air that lingered long after the storm had abated, ready to be topped up again when Richard returned. 

Paul cursed, and slammed the door shut behind him with the flat of his booted foot, and stomped quickly into the bedroom, whirling into it in the only way he knew how. He rifled through his wardrobe, fumbling hands laying on clothes and rejecting them almost immediately, as he tried to find the most suitable outfit for the evening ahead. He wasn't entirely certain as to the best outfit he could wear, that would look good in a gastropub; the flyers had stated casual, yet he didn't think t shirt and sweatpants would go down very well. Instead, Paul opted for his best pair of jeans, black and soft against his skin, yet without holes or tears at the knees as was his wont sometimes. Flake had often laughed at him for those jeans, proclaiming Paul to be a dyed-in-the-wool punk; Paul always had shrugged at that, and wondered where the insult was. He was a punk, and always had been, in manner, in dress, in music taste. Age had not knocked the youthful rebellion completely out of him.

To go with the jeans, Paul decided upon an equally soft shirt, as black as the jeans, with red buttons and stitching. He almost added a tie, yet decided that would be too formal; instead, he left the collar undone, revealing the dip and curve of his clavicle to the light. It was as he was sliding his ring onto his left hand, that he heard a key scraping and twisting in the lock again, and that buzzing, beautiful, colourful energy of Richard entering the flat. Paul was smiling even before he poked his head out of the bedroom door, to find that Richard was making his way down the hallway, as hurriedly as Paul had done previously. Richard's worried expression was replaced by a wide grin when he saw Paul, and that grin was filled with relief, and instant happiness; Paul saw the wash of happy love behind his eyes transmited from his lover to his own body. 

"Hi, Paulchen. I'm not late, am I?" Richard asked, grin dimming a little beneath the weight of his returning worry. "I tried to hurry, but the traffic was a right bastard, tonight." 

"Tell me about it," Paul muttered, as he rolled his eyes and shook his head at the still smiling Richard. "And no, we're not late; not quite yet, anyway.! 

Richard, however, seemed almost not to hear him, or perhaps the words didn't quite register; instead, he seemed to be staring at Paul, before his hands reached out to rest upon Paul's hips, thumbs soon working up beneath the tails of Paul's shirt to stroke concentric patterns against his skin. Paul shuddered pleasurably beneath the touch, eyes closing as he leant into Richard's warmth, inhaling the myriad scents of his lover, his soap, his shampoo, and cologne and the underlying, rattlesnake sweet smell that seemed peculiar to dragonshifters beneath it all. Paul groaned and didn't protest when he felt the soft brush of Richard's lips against his own; instead, he leant into that kiss, lips locking gently against Richard's as the other man crowded in still further, claiming him with his kiss, and his stance and his need baking from his skin in purple waves.

"You look lovely tonight, Paulchen," Richard murmured against Paul's lips when the kiss ended, hand reaching down to grope openly at Paul's butt. 

Paul laughed and pressed a quick and smacking kiss against Richard's leering mouth, before he shimmied away; that one movement produced a shout of surprise from Richard, who reached out with grasping hands, in an attempt to pull Paul back against his body again.

"You've got to get ready, Reesh, or we really will be late," Paul admonished, as he returned to his chest of drawers by his bed. 

Rchard made a disgusted sound, which was perfunctory at best and not meant; he soon joined Paul in getting ready, hogging the mirror whilst brushing his hair and adjusting his clothes, whilst Paul shook his head in amusement over his partner's constant preening. He busied himsef with draping a heavy chain around his neck and looping silver earrings through the pierced holes in his ears, replacing the fake guage ones he'd been wearing throughout the day. Eventually he managed to tease Richard away from the mirror, and into the car, whereupon he braved the traffic again to head for Charlottenberg and the gastropub, Richard a languid, contentedly warm orange presence by his side. 

Richard seemed more relaxed than Paul felt right then; Paul still was not used to the idea of actually going on dates, even though he had ventured out on more than a few with Richard, all of which had proven to be more than a little pleasurable and enjoyable. He still felt those distinctive, and never-forgotten, pre-date jitters coiling in his abdomen and sending butterflies skittering and fluttering against his senses. Richard seemed to pick up on his nervousness, for he reached out and laid one hand upon Paul's thigh and left it there, wordless, doing little more than to stroke one thumb over Paul's denim clad skin in soothing circles as he sent waves of calming, soothing blue through their link. Paul felt himself relax beneath Richard's soothing motions and his smile, upon finally entering Sanguine, was more relaxed, and so thankfully more in keeping with the gastropub's name. 

The gastropub, as it turned out, was nothing like Paul had imagined it to be; he'd thought of it as being quite stuffy and high-brow perhaps, filled with people who imagined themselves to be entrepreneurs and were, instead, nothing of the sort; instead, he found that Sanguine had a more relaxed atmosphere, more in keeping with a traditional bar, with added restaurant. Upon the walls were various framed photos and posters of old-fashioned films, featuring the greatest monsters that celluloid had produced. He saw Lugosi as Dracula, Karloff as Frankenstein's Monster, Chaney Jr as the wolfman, amongst others. He marvelled at the other memorabilia dotting the place, figures and Airfix models of the monsters displayed upon the walls. The farthest wall, he saw, held a large bookcase, and each shelf was filled to almost overflowing with a selection of books, undoubtedly featuring more of the monsters that populated the walls and the shelves. The walls themselves were painted a deep ruby-red, and the curtains and most of the furnishings were soft black, with chrome detailing here and there. The lighting was low and intimate, given over largely to tasteful, yet still fake, oil lamps and glittering candles adorning the tables, and the air was filled with the scents of cooking, which, to Paul's sensitive nose, smelled absolutely delicious. 

"This is absolutely fantastic," Paul breathed as Richard stood silently beside him, openly goggling at the decor. 

"Indeed. It's not quite what I was expecting," Richard admitted, but he sounded impressed rather than disappointed, which followed closely Paul's own train of thought.

"Hallo, there, Paulchen," a familiar voice said, as an equally familiar tall body hoved into view. "I didn't expect to see you in here. D'you have a reservation?"

Richard and Paul turned to face the man who'd spoken to them, and Paul was surprised to see Olli standing there, grinning at them; Paul couldn't remember the last time that he'd seen his old friend, and eventually guessed at perhaps a few months.

"Hi, Olli. Long time no see. I didn't know that you worked in here," Paul said, in pleased surprise.

"Oh, yeah, I do! I started a couple of weeks ago, when Sanguine actually opened," Olli replied, with a typically gentle, yet still excited, smile.

He turned his smile upon Richard, expression turning a little shy at the unfamiliar face. Richard smiled and nodded back, yet remained studiously silent. 

"How are you finding it so far?" Paul asked. "The job, I mean." 

"Okay, I suppose. I haven't figured out some of the employees out yet, but they seem harmless enough," Olli said, with a shrug and an uncertain look.

"It's probably 'cos you're all new," Paul laughed. "Everyone seems weird, at first, until you get used to them. Or the majority of people do, at any rate." 

He cast Richard an amused glance, which seemed to amuse the other man more than the conversation had. That Paul counted Richard as amongst those that weren't weird was obvious and Rihcard sent him a dragon-kiss over their bond as thanks for the compliment. 

"And to answer your question, we do have a reservation," Paul said, in response to Olli's earlier question. "It's under the name of Kruspe. Which reminds me, that I'm being incredibly rude. I don't think you've met Richard yet, have you?" 

"No, I haven't," Olli said, with a smile at Paul, which soon transferred to Richard again. "Hi. I'm Olli. I'm an old friend of Paul's." 

"So I gathered. Pleased to meet you. I'm Richard. I'm Paul's life-partner," Richard said, with a smile as he shook Olli's hand.

"Oh, super, so you're Richard," Olli said, in sudden pleased recognition. "Paul did mention something about meeting someone nice, a while ago."

"Yeah, that'd be me. He actually knocked me over with his car," Richard said, with a laugh. "And I never regained my feet, either. He bowled me over in more ways than one." 

"Shut up," Paul said, immediately embarrassed. 

"I think that's nice, Paul," Olli admonished, despite his sudden laughter. 

"I'm not saying it isn't," Paul said, laughing himself. "Don't worry; I always get embarrassed when Reesh talks like that" 

"You should see him when I tell him I love him, then," Richard teased, as he winked at Paul and grinned at Olli. "Goes even more coy. It's kinda cute, actually." 

Paul merely rolled his eyes and tried not to look too embarrassed, or pleased by Richard's words. 

"Well, I'm glad you've finally met someone, Paulchen," Olli said, and Paul could tell that the other man genuinely meant it. "Like I said, Richard, it's nice to finally meet you. And I really should be doing my job right now, and actually showing you to your table." 

"Neither of us would mind," Paul said, with a snort, as Olli led them to a corner table, tucked away into the very back corner of Sanguine. 

Richard settled down at the table with a contented little sigh, and accepted the menu that Olli dutifully handed him. Paul sat opposite his lover after grinning at Olli, whilst accepting his own menu; he opened the laminated leaves of it and perused the choice of food on display whilst Olli walked happily away. He looked up when he felt Richard's hand warm upon his own, thumb rubbing gentle patterns against his knuckles. Richard shot him a smile and a wink, yet didn't say anything; instead, he lifted Paul's hand and pressed his knuckles against his lips, warm kisses spreading wildfire through Paul's body, followed swiftly by Richard's contentment. Paul smiled and gestured silently for Richard to lean across; Richard did so, a curious expression upon his face, yet his surprise melted away into pleasure when Paul pressed a kiss against his mouth. Paul felt Richard's smile against his lips and returned it whilst they still were kissing, a silver-flecked golden kiss soon joining the physical kiss, menu completely forgotten for the time being. He lost himself to both kisses, the familiar feel and weight of Richard's lips against his own, the colourful spread of Richard's happiness and contentment behind his eyes and the way that Richard deepened the kiss, turned it dirty and needy, almost desperate. Paul was glad for the fact that they still were sitting alone, relatively shielded from the main part of Sanguine, yet even so, he was conscious of perhaps being watched, of imagined eyes resting upon them and observing every move that they made. 

He did not pull away until Richard did, however, tip of his tongue sweeping out to lap at his upper lip briefly as he leant away and settled against his chair again. Paul received another wink from Richard, as the other man moved, and his eyes became ever more translucent and beautiful as the candlelight flickered in them from where it shimmered and danced beside them. 

"You look beautiful in this light, Paulchen," Richard murmured, as he gestured towards to the candle. 

"Likewise," Paul replied, with a smile, even as he returned his attention back to the menu again. 

When Olli returned to their table, notebook poised hopefully in his hand, Richard and Paul had made their decision as to what they wanted to order; Richard fancied the steak and ale pie, with thick, home cooked chips, whilst Paul settled for the steak with similar chips, heavily loaded with onions and red wine sauce. They plumped also for Paulaner beer to go with their meals, deciding to stick with something familiar and beloved than risk trying something more exotic and disliking it.

"Maybe we can try something different next time," Paul murmured, once Olli had walked away again. 

Conversation was sparse, whilst they waited for their meal, silence comfortable and companionable; Paul still managed to make the other man laugh a little heartily a few times, and Richard still was laughing at one of Paul's jokes when the meal arrived, heavy meaty scents filling the air around them. Paul and Richard nodded out their grateful thanks to Olli, before they dug into the delicious smelling food with alacrity.The meal proved to be as good as it looked and smelled; so much so, that they even ordered a second helping before they'd even finished the first. That second helping was tucked away as swiftly as the first had been, before both men ordered heaping portions of sticky toffee pudding, laden with heavily decadent ice cream, infused with real vanilla pods. 

It was as they sat and ate their dessert that the cat arrived, ginger marmalade body winding through the chair and table legs and patrons legs alike, mewing, purring sounds filling the air whenever a pleased patron leant down to pet it, or to feed it dainty scaps from their plate. The cat ate every last one, which went some way to explaining its chubby, well-fed stomach, and the contented purrs that often filled the air around it. Paul smiled at the cat as it approached, yet he lost the smile, when he saw the look upon his lover's face; Richard looked almost terrified, eyes wide, bite of toffee pudding poised halfway to his lips. Paul could even see the bright blue wash of Richard's terror blazing behind his eyes and he reached out to lay a soothing hand on his lover's arm. 

"Reesh?" Paul asked, yet he didn't get the chance to speak further. 

The cat streaked past them, without stopping as it had at other occupied tables; the fur on its back was fluffed and bristling whilst its tail resembled little more than a ginger bottlebrush. It hissed and spat at them both on the way past, before it coiled up beneath an empty table, amber eyes glaring at them from the darkness. 

"What the hell is wrong with that?" Paul asked, but he stopped himself with a sigh. "It's the shifter thing, isn't it?" 

"Yeah," Richard said, shortly, even as Olli came over to them, carrying their after-dessert Kahlua. 

"Sorry about Sooty, there; he's actually very friendly once you get past the hissing. or he is with some people," Olli said, with an apologetic smile as he nodded over at the still hissing cat. "He's very sensitive. He can be a bit off with certain kinds of people. I can never predict his mood swings or quite how he's gonna react to the customers."

"Well, we'll have to take your word for it," Richard said, dubiously. 

"Sooty, though?" Paul questioned, with a sudden short bark of a laugh.

"I know; that name's usually reserved for black cats," Olli said, with a roll of his eyes and a snorted laugh. "My boss has a weird sense of humour. Either that, or he's colour blind." 

He laughed, and Paul and Richard affected small smiles for his benefit; Olli's laughter was exacerbated by the sounds of the cat hissing and yowling. Olli strolled away from the table with an apologetic smile, before he encouraged the cat to come out from beneath the table; he picked the cat up gently and stroked its head a few times, before walking past Richard and Paul again with the cat in his arms. It yowled and wriggled free from Olli's gentle hold almost as soon as they got to Richard's side of the table, before it streaked away like marmalade-coloured wildfire. 

"Well," Paul said when Olli and attendant cat had gone. "That was exciting. This happen to you often?"

Richard merely grunted, and stared off into space. Then he seemed to shake himself and attempt a grin at Paul.

"Yeah. All animals dislike me," he said. "I thought it just was me, at first but that cat hated you just as much."

"I'm not taking it personally, believe me," Paul said, with a sudden huffed laughter. "I guess we're just higher up the food chain, right?" 

"Something like that," Richard replied, with a smile. 

"Not to worry," Paul nodded. "The cat's missing out, not us. Or lucky. After all, it could be counted as a potential meal." 

"Paul," Richard said, looking uncertain as to whether to laugh, to be annoyed, or whether Paul was even joking or not.

"It was a joke, Reesh," Paul confirmed, with a sudden laugh that sent fine wrinkles radiating out from the corners of his eyes. "I'm not into eating cats. Or at least not today; I'm full." 

"Paulchen," Richard said again, yet at least that time, he was laughing and the sudden wash of lemon yellow amusement was immediate and genuine.

Paul merely grinned back at him, before he took a sip of his Kahlua and sighed.

"It's good," he proclaimed, as he nodded at his own liqueur filled glass.

Richard nodded when he tasted his own Kahlua, pleased smile crossing his lips at the rich taste. They continued drinking in silence, before Paul excused himself to visit the bathroom; it was as he was relieving himself that another man entered the rest-room, taking his place beside Paul. Paul took little notice, merely finished his business and zipped himself up. It was as he was turning away that he accidentally brushed against the other man; the other man leant in suddenly and sniffed at Paul's shoulder sharply, once, twice, thrice, before Paul moved swiftly away; he threw one last look over his shoulder at the other man before he left the room entirely. The man still was watching him, eyes narrowed and suspicious and for just one moment, it looked as though his eyes shone, and flickered with an internal light, very reminiscent of flames.


	4. Chapter 4

*****

"Are you all right?" Richard asked, when Paul returned to the table. 

"Yeah, I suppose," Paul said, still feeling a little distracted by what had happened in the rest room. 

"What's up?" Richard asked, with a worried frown, as he reached out to take Paul's hand, swinging it a little before he rubbed his thumb across Paul's knuckles. 

Paul caught Richard's concerned, questioning look and attempted a smile for his lover's benefit, before he tried to shrug his discomfort away. He knew that he should have known better than to try and fool his lover; Richard would have seen his discomfort in waves of lime-green behind his eyes. He shrugged again, in an attempt to try and shift away some of his discomfort; it mostly worked, yet still some odd, negative feeling remained within him. 

"Just had a weird run-in in the rest room. Some guy was giving me a funny look, is all. It's probably nothing," Paul said, trying to grin it off. "He probably was just eyeing me up, or something. Needless to say, I got out of there pretty quickly."

"But - " Richard said, slowly, astutely picking up on the fact that there was something else that Paul wasn't immediately telling him. 

"He had weird eyes," Paul finally admitted, with a snort. 

"Weird how, exactly?" Richard asked, his own translucent eyes narrowed at Paul.

"I don't know how to explain it. They weren't normal human eyes, yet they weren't anything like dragon eyes, either; they just looked ... filled with fire, is all I can think to say about them. I didn't get a chance to scent him, but I doubt I would have known what he was from smell alone, anyway. If he was another type of shifter, I mean. I've only ever had experience with dragons, so far," Paul said, slowly, with an almost shy smile directed towards Richard.

"You're probably right; he probably is some other kind of shifter," Richard said, slowly. "I mean, we can't be the only ones out there, not with so many documented occurences of werewolves, for instance."

"In films, perhaps," Paul snorted.

Richard merely shrugged, with one shoulder and gave him a wry smile.

"The ideas must come from somewhere, sweetness," he said, not unkindly. "Do you want me to go rough this guy up for looking at you in a funny way? I can tell you now, I don't like other men muscling in on my mate."

"No," Paul immediately retorted, in alarm. "He only looked. He probably thought I was a piece of filth or something, not really eyeing me up. Some people just don't like old punks, Richard."

"You're not old, and I happen to like punks," Richard said, with a small laugh. "More specifically, I love one punk." 

Paul's laugh was immediate, as was Richard's intent and the happy sound transferred itself to Richard; Paul bent down and pressed a kiss against his partner's forehead suddenly. 

"Come on, Reesh, let's go," he said, with a sigh. "I think we've been here long enough." 

"Hmmm," Richard said, as he leant in to Paul's warmth, shoulder coming to rest against Paul's soft abdomen. 

Paul chuckled and looped one arm around Richard's shoulders, surprised at how intimate the moment felt, when all was quiet and Richard was obviously enjoying the contact, minimal though it was; Paul felt the contented wash of bright orange behind his eyes, warm and comforting and happy. Richard seemed to Paul then like an overgrown cat, and he wondered then if perhaps dragons were as much the sensualist as cats were purported to be, or whether that was just Richard being like that with him, because they were mated. Paul leant in still further, and looped his other arm around Richard's shoulders then; he rested there for a moment, before he reached up and tweaked the end of Richard's slightly up-turned nose gently.

"Hey," Richard suddenly laughed, as he jerked away from Paul's tweaking fingers. 

"Move, then, you great scaled lump," Paul murmured, as he turned a tender smile down upon his lover. "I'd like to go home, please." 

Richard laughed at that, and stood, close enough to slide both arms around Paul's waist and smile at him. Paul pecked a kiss against Richard's smile, and grinned back when Richard chased his mouth for another kiss. Paul allowed Richard to capture his mouth again, lips working gently against lips, Richard's arms a warm and welcome trapping cage around him. They ended the kiss when a sudden polite cough interrupted them from nearby; both men turned, arms still wrapped neatly around each other's bodies, to find Olli standing nearby, smiling at them. 

"Are you ready for your cheque?" Olli asked, quietly.

"Yes," Richard said, with a smile, into the other man's quietly grinning face. "The meal was very nice, thank you." 

"You can come again, if you like; you're always welcome," Olli said. "The bar's always open, if you just want a drink, or you can have a meal again. We need more people like you here." 

Paul almost asked what he meant, yet Richard nodded, and forestalled further questioning by speaking again.

"We'll definitely remember that. Won't we, Paulchen?" he said, as he turned a sharp glance upon Paul. 

"Absolutely," Paul replied, with a smile that was just as much genuine as it was surprised. 

"Super. Hope to see you here, again. Sorry about the cat earlier," Olli said, with a roll of his eyes at the two dragons. "He's usually all right, like I said, but there are some people he reacts to more than others. It's not personal, I assure you. We are a safe haven here, despite ferocious, oddly named cats." 

Paul suddenly grinned at that, an expression which was suddeny echoed by Richard. They remained silent, even as they paid for their meal, both splitting the costs despite much gentle arguing between them. The man that had stared at Paul in the rest-room came to stand nearby, and Richard, too, stared back at him, a little alarmed. He said nothing and neither did Paul; instead, they agreed to return when Olli gently insisted that they do so, repeating again his earlier assertions that Sanguine was a safe haven for them.

They descended from the door out in the night street again, which was cooler, fresher than the day had been, although an odd, electrical humid charge in the air promised a thunder storm before the night was through. Paul shivered, dragon self reacting with excitement to the frisson in the air; he wondered then what it would be like to fly through the storm, to ride the winds and to witness lightning close up. He didn't realise he'd spoken aloud until Richard answered, him, surprising him with his voice and his words.

"I wouldn't advise it, Paulchen," Richard laughed, the noise a soft deep rumble in the dark streets. "I've never tried it myself and I wouldn't want to, either. Imagine if some of the lightning seared through your wings? Not a pleasant thought." 

Paul shuddered against Richard, suddenly imagining ripped wings and seared musculature, and the accompanying pain such torment would cause. 

"Anyway, I don't think this is the time or place to be talking about things like that, Paul," Richard admoinished gently, as he surreptitiously glanced at the street around them. "Leave that for our flat, where it's safe." 

"Got ya," Paul said, with a rueful laugh, more aimed at himself than at Richard. "Sometimes I just can't stop talking; I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for that, Paul," Richard said, amusement warming his tone and colouring their link with lemon yellow, as they finally reached Paul's car. "I like your constant chatter. Just watch what you're talking about and where, is all I'm saying." 

"Hmm," Paul said, agreeably, with a nod. 

He could see what Richard was trying to say; only they knew of their draconic secret after all, and Richard, he supposed, was quite rightly being cautious. Paul himself found it hard to trust people, and always had done; he didn't know what would happen to them should anyone find out their secret. It would undoubtedly be terrifying, Paul guessed, with the uncertainty of what people could do to those that were different, yet he hadn't lived through the horror of being forced into the shifter's life like Richard had. He remembered again the other man's tale, of being captured, of being drugged, of being forcibly changed against his will into a dragon-shifter, just to lead an American group of dragons. Richard himself had more reason than Paul to be distrustful and suspicious where all others were concerned. 

"What d'you think Olli meant, anyway? When he said that Sanguine was a safe haven for people like us?" Paul asked, aiming to change the subject just slightly. 

"Probably meant gay men," Richard offered, with a shrug and a confused frown. "I can't think what else he could have meant. It's not like he would have known about the other thing that we're not mentioning in public." 

Paul laughed at that, and nodded, knowing that his lover had a point.

"That's probably it," he agreed, with a satisfied smile. "Anyway, here's the car." 

Richard grunted and waited on the pavement, whilst Paul unlocked it, in preperation for sliding behind the steering wheel once more.

****

As soon as they were in the car and rolling through the traffic again, light though it was now, Paul thought to ask a question.

"What's a group of dragons called?" he asked. 

"What?" Richard asked, in surprise, jerked from whatever dark thoughts had been previously swirling through his mind before Paul had spoken. 

"A group of dragons. I know you get herds of horses, and flocks of birds, but what's a group of dragons called?" Paul asked, musingly, as he navigated their car into a junction, angling further towards Kreuzberg and home. 

"Anything you bloody well like, I should imagine. Who's gonna argue against a dragon?" Richard suddenly laughed. 

Paul laughed in turn, even as Richard asked another question.

"Why are you asking, anyway?" he asked, sounding genuinely curious.

"I dunno; I guess I was just wondering," Paul said, with a shrug and a brief glance towards his lover. "Randomly, you know. I can be random, at times."

"I'd noticed," Richard said, fondly. "You do make me laugh, you know, Paulchen." 

"Good," Paul said, with a grin and a small, deep chuckle, feeling oddly complimented by Richard's admission.

They drove in silence for a while, Paul's fingers tapping crazy cadences against the steering wheel. 

"I've always liked a flight of dragons, myself," Richard finally replied, quietly, breaking into the silence.

"What?" Paul asked, jerked out of his reverie for a while.

Richard patiently repeated his observation and Paul nodded, taking the suggestion seriously, as he angled the car to a halt outside their block of flats. 

"Although if you have a better idea, we can use that. Like I said, who's gonna argue against a dragon?" Richard smiled. 

Paul laughed again, before he shrugged.

"Flight of dragons is nice. I like it. I'll think on it, though, see if anything comes to mind, if you like," he said, as he unsnapped his selt-belt from its holder and fed the flat ribbon of it through his fingers.

"Okay; you do that," Richard replied, with a brief, yet still amused, snort of laughter. 

Paul nodded at him, before he slid out of the car and onto the pavement; he waited for Richard to join him, before he locked the car and they made their way inside their building, to walk the short flight of stairs to their flat.

****

That night, Richard dreamed; his cries and his sudden terrified, jerking movements woke Paul, and he barely missed getting a fist to the face when he tried to wake Richard in turn. Richard soon burrowed into Paul's side, as soon as he was fully awake and aware of himself and his surroundings, head coming to a cushioned rest against Paul's shoulder. 

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, liebchen," Richard murmured, as his hands bunched into the back of Paul's shirt.

"That's okay," Paul murmured, as he held Richard closer and sent a wash of soothing burnt orange comfort into his lover's body.

He smoothed one hand against Richard's back, thinking as he did so that it had been a long time since his lover had had one of his nightmares; by Paul's reckoning, it must have easily been a few months. Although Paul was surprised at the return of the nightmares, he supposed that it was to be expected; something like trauma induced nightmares didn't just disappear overnight nor should they be expected to stay away for good. The mind was an impossible labyrinth and often threw the owner of it a curveball that could set them back months, even years, of recovery, doubly so if they'd lived through something that would have destroyed another person.

Paul sighed and didn't object when Richard snuggled closer against him; he thought he felt the soft wipe of tears against his bare shoulder. His heart clenched at that, but still he remained silent; to point out the fact that Richard was crying might seem like a mockery or a perceived insult, perhaps. Instead, he turned his face against Richard's, pressed a quiet kiss against Richard's wet cheek and remained silent. In time, Richard calmed and eased away a little, with a wash of gentle blue gratitude, athough he did not relinquish his hold upon Paul quite yet. He gave Paul an embarrassed smile, as though he expected to be mocked for his loss of masculinity. Instead, Paul merely smiled and pressed a warm, and lingering, kiss against Richard's mouth.

"You okay, now, love?" he asked, as he reached up with his thumb to wipe away the last tear from Richard's salt-wet cheek.

"I will be," Richard told him, with a brave, yet still wobbly, smile. "Thanks, Paulchen. For being there. Again."

Paul guessed that Richard had also meant - _thanks for not taking the piss_ \- and he merely smiled at him.

"I'm your lover, Reesh. Of course I'm gonna be here for you," he said. "I'm a good listener, as you know." 

"I know," Richard said, and he sighed, warm breath gusting upon Paul's cheek. "Those nightmares are back."

"I guessed," Paul said, without judgement. "Same as before?" 

"Yeah," Richard replied, before his hands bunched in the back of Paul's shirt again. "Why now? Why are they back, Paul?" 

Richard stared at him, and paused long enough for Paul to gather that the other man genuinely expected an answer, yet Paul had no answer to give. He doubted anyone would be able to give his lover a satisfactory one and that made his heart ache in realisation. Only time, and love, could hopefully heal his mate, and Paul was thankful that he had plenty of both to share with Richard. 

"I don't know, my love, but you must realise that the mind takes longer to heal than the body does," Paul told him gently, "Give it time, and it'll settle down eventually. Be patient. I'll still be here at the end of it all, waiting for you. Loving you."

"I know," Richard said, as he leant in to rest his forehead against Paul's own. "I think that's the only thing getting me through most days." 

Paul sighed at that and didn't know quite what to say; anything he could tell Richard might destroy the moment, cheapen it somehow, so instead, he adjusted the angle of his head, leant in and kissed Richard. He felt his lover's lips mould against his own, forming soft, yet still desperate shapes against him. When Paul leant away again, he exhaled sharply though his nose and considered Richard's face for a while.

"D'you want some hot chocolate?" he asked, finally, when it became obvious that Richard wasn't going to ask, or speak, first. 

"Okay," Richard said, but he didn't immediately let go of Paul's shirt.

Instead, his fingers seemed to snarl all the more closely against Paul's back, thumbs rubbing gentle caresses against his skin through the thin cotton of his t shirt; it seemed as though Richard still wanted the confort of Paul's body, despite agreeing to hot chocolate. 

"I'm sorry, Reesh, but if you want your chocolate, you're gonna have to let me go," Paul said, not unkindly. "Unless you wanna come with?"

"Please," Richard said, and that one word broke Paul's heart still further with the utter desolate loneliness trapped behind it.

Richard's embarrassed look, and his wash of red emotion, deepened, yet still Paul did not say anything. Instead, he waited patiently for Richard to let go before Paul slid out from beneath the covers and waited again for Richard to join him. He led the other man through to the kitchen where he made hot chocolate and sliced up some of the squidgy chocolate fudge cake that he knew Richard liked. Richard wolfed down the slice of cake greedily and asked for more even before Paul had finished his first slice. Paul laughed at that yet didn't object, glad to see that Richard had yet to lose his appetite for Paul's home made cake. 

"You will have to give me the proper recipe for this one day, Paulchen," Richard said, quietly, as he accepted his second portion with a nod of thanks. "It'll save me trying to make educated guesses." 

"And I will have to kill you, if I do," Paul laughed. 

"Or maybe just kill everyone else, so I don't have to tell 'em," Richard pointed out cheekily, some of his former good humour leaching back in dribs and drabs.

"Now I like the sound of that," Paul said, with a sudden bright rill of laughter, that dimmed into a thoughtful smile. "I will tell you one day, Reesh, I promise. You can help me make it, even." 

"Would you?" Richard asked, in surprise. "Really? I thought it was a family secret." 

"Yeah, it is, but you're practically family, now, darling," Paul said, as he dropped a kiss upon Richard's head, inhaling the scents of the other man's shampoo. "Love ya, Reesh."

"Love you too," Richard said, as he briefly rested his shoulder and the side of his head against Paul's abdomen, a wash of golden dragon love warming Paul's belly. 

Paul huffed and returned to his seat, when Richard had leant away again; Paul continued to eat, eyes closing partially as the sweet, fudgey taste of the cake flooded his tongue and his senses. He even got up from the table to cut a second slice of his own, glad for the fact that neither of them actually were in danger of ever putting on weight. Their dragon sides took care of the extra calories they consumed per day, ensuring that their normal weights, prior to their transformations, were always maintained. 

In time, they returned to bed, where Richard showed interest in making love. Paul was quick to respond, body soon aroused by soft caresses and kisses carefully placed in strategic points on his body; when their bodies joined however, their love-making was slow, and sweet, and tender, dragons coiling and twining together as their bodies moved in time. Paul couldn't remember a time before when he felt so loved, so needed and wanted as he did right then. His body arched up against Richard 's time and again, cries soft and filled with desperate need, and tender love and when he came it was with a sigh of Richard's name upon his lips swiftly followed by a choked declaration of love, which Richard gratefully returned. When it was over, they lay against one another, sated, relaxed, bodies entwined as they finally fell asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

Richard and Paul were woken again what seemed to them like minutes later, but was, in actuality, a few hours after first getting into bed. The fire alarm was sending spikes of loud noise through their entire block of flats, loud and stridently insistent and they cursed, thrashed out of their messed sheets, realising before it still was too late that they both were still naked. They pulled on a pair of sweatpants each before they dashed outside, to stand in their designated fire assembly point. Richard, in particular, was glad that the night was a warm one, and that the earlier promised thunder storm had never arrived; neither he nor Paul could imagine the discomfort a wait in the drenching rain would cause. Even without the storm's presence, the wait was interminable, for the source of the fire to be found, and for the firemen to finally drive away, fire engine rumbling through the streets back to the fire station once more. The fire drill was but a false alarm for the most part, triggered by nothing more than a small fire in the stairwell. 

Richard, Paul, and the rest of the residents were able to finally return to their flats, yet none of them were made very happy by the disturbance. Paul couldn't shake the odd feeling that they were being watched, as they made their way inside again, followed by a coldly malevolent stare, until the wooden barrier of their front door separated them from whoever was outside. Neither Richard nor Paul could determine who was watching them, nor where they had hidden themselves and it took the couple a long time before they settled into sleep once more.

****

The following morning, Richard seemed in a morose mood, mouth a little down-turned and his shoulders a little slumped in tired defeat; Paul even could sense the washed out grey of tiredness tugging at the backs of his eyes. Paul chattered away much as he always did, and attempted to infuse a few more jokes than usual into his vocal meanderings. Whilst his jokes mostly hit the mark and at least coaxed smiles and a few chuckles out of Richard, the morose mood he was suffering still did not dissipate entirely. Paul still tried to maintain a cheerful facade despite this, yet pared back the chatter and the jokes, fearful of potentially getting on the other man's nerves.

That act of modesty was not lost upon Richard; when Paul stood to make the morning coffee, after a breakfast spread of their usual rolls, cold meats, jams, and cheeses, Richard reached out to grasp Paul's hand lightly. Paul stopped by his side and looked down upon the other man, smiling a little at the odd change of perspective. Paul was all too used to looking slightly upwards at Richard, as the other man was a few inches taller. Ordinarily Paul didn't mind the difference in height; despite the fact that he could look after himself, and had done for the majority of his life on his own, he always felt somewhat safer in Richard's presence, as the other man exuded a strong and comforting presence. Whether it was the height, or whether it was because Richard was his Alpha, Paul didn't know, yet he knew that he liked it. 

"Thanks, Paulchen." Richard murmured, as he pressed tickling kisses against the sensitive skin of Paul's palm. 

He didn't elaborate and Paul didn't ask what he was referring to; he knew without Richard needing to explain a thing. Richard was thanking him for attempting to distract him, for carrying on as normal and not trying to act like Richard was a special case, needing special mollycoddling attention. He saw the soft splash of Richard's gratitude in a wash of soft peach behind his eyes, and he smiled and dotted a golden dragon-kiss in Richard's direction.

"That is okay, Reesh," Paul finally said, gently. "I love you." 

That at least brought a bright smile to Richard's lips, that sent deep wrinkles fanning out from the corners of his eyes; whilst Richard did not return the declaration of love, it still was there in his eyes, in his smile, in the wash of bright, almost blinding gold behind Paul's eyes, in the way that he pressed another smacking kiss against Paul's palm. Paul lifted his hand and pressed it against the side of Richard's head, pushing gently and jokingly against him. Richard laughed and hefted his shoulder into Paul's abdomen, surprising a huff from Paul as the other man's shoulder met soft and tender belly. Paul mimed claws and roared, and the sudden rolling chuckle from Richard was loud then, and welcome. 

"You don't scare me," Richard murmured, as he laid his head against Paul's abdomen briefly.

He took the chance to lift Paul's shirt and to blow a loud raspberry against Paul's flesh, lips tickling a laugh from Paul; Paul laughed again when the loud noise was replaced by an equally loud, smacking kiss beside his navel. 

"I wasn't supposed to," Paul finally replied, as he went to make the coffee after Richard had leaned away again. "You're the last person who should be scared of me. Anyone else, yes." 

"You're no monster, not to me," Richard agreed, with a nod. "Cuddle monster, perhaps." 

"Best kind of monster, I reckon," Paul said, with a self-deprecating snort. "So, talking of monsters; what are we doing today? A flight and a feed or a flight alone?" 

On Sundays, and sometimes on Saturdays if they had the time, they headed out in the afternoon to the countryside, where they changed into their dragon forms; sometimes, they flew, whilst at other times they fed, catching their prey in draconic claws and sating their monstrous hunger on the wing. 

"I was hoping for a flight, a feed and a fuck, actually," Richard admitted, with another of his deep, almost deviously evil chuckles. 

"The three F's," Paul nodded. "I like the three F's." 

"I like one F more than the others," Richard said, as he winked and gave Paul a lewd grin.

"Yeah, I think I know which one you like the most, Reesh," Paul said, with a laugh as he ruffled Richard's hair, and ruffled it again when the other man protested with a pout. 

"Don't lie, Paulchen; you love it, too," Richard said, as his fingers teased his spikes back into position again. 

"I do, indeed," Paul said, as he dropped a warm kiss against Richard's temple, earning himself another small smile from his lover. 

He returned the grin and settled down to enjoy his coffee, the fragrant steam rising from his cup as he sipped. Richard was quiet as he drank his own coffee, yet his translucent eyes held dark promises for Paul whenever Paul glanced in his lover's direction and Paul could feel his mate's gentle contment in a colourful wash behind his eyes. Richard's unusual eyes were more translucent that day, seemed more like the jewels that they'd once reminded Paul of, and Paul smiled at him, feeling more than a little glad that Richard was his.

****

The afternoon was another hot one as they reached their usual haunt of a wooded area, surrounded by fields on all sides, that lay just outside the borders of Berlin. Rolling fields splayed out into the distance and there was little traffic or eyes to spy upon them. Paul always felt relaxed amongst the trees, despite the fact that he was a self-confessed dyed-in-the-wool Berliner; despite the fact that he knew that he always would remain within his native city, his dragon side still craved the open spaces, and the even more open skies that the countryside afforded him and Richard both.

Richard also seemed to smile a little more once amongst the fields and the trees and his mood seemed a little lighter than it appeared amongst the concrete jungle of Berlin, and its constant ghosts of its own particular past. Yet still, Paul knew, that Berlin had a certain hold upon Richard too, which was why he'd returned to the city after all that had happened in New York; Berlin was like a comfort blanket in a way for the both of them. 

They parked their car, partially hidden by a rich burst of bushes and walked in amongst the trees, towards the clearing that they always used, which was shielded enough to offer them privacy whilst still affording them the space to do all that they needed to do during their transformations. They stripped off their clothes, unabashed and comfortable in each other's presence to walk naked amongst the trees together, to hold hands, to just be without anything overtly sexual getting in the way. It was just natural, a way to be free, and to be quiet, before the change from one state to another.

Paul was the first to change; he still was new to it, after all and Richard insisted upon keeping an eye on him, to make sure that he was safe and that he was okay. Paul privately reckoned that Richard just liked watching him, at the way the dragon flowed out of his body in a flow of midnight blue scales, how the wings sprouted from a changed and modified musculature, how the bones always cracked and broke and realigned into fantastical new, yet still beautiful shapes. 

Paul endured the pain of it, knowing that while the pain lessened with each change, it still would be there to a lesser degree in the future; his body was breaking itself into another shape, after all. That day, the change flowed smoothly and Paul supposed it was because he felt more relaxed and didn't fight it quite so much as he had on previous occasions. 

He stretched his wings out wide and reared onto his back legs once he had fully changed, a thin trickle of steam and fire coiling out of his nostrils at that; whilst Richard had once said that they could emit flames, Paul had yet to see Richard demonstrate it and he certainly hadn't yet tried to belch it out himself. Richard had worriedly advised against doing that until Paul was more comfortable with his new form; Richard had warned that he might set his own feet or wings on fire, doubly so when one was as clumsy as Paul was. That had made Paul laugh and agree easily to Richard's worried form of logic.

Paul settled again and watched as his lover changed, body snapping and breaking and scales and wings appearing in much the same manner as it had for Paul; Paul nosed forward when Richard was standing still and quiet in his dragon form, and Richard's muzzle met his, blowing hot breath against Paul's sensitive scales. Paul rubbed his head alongside Richard's, eyes partially closing in pleasure at the contact and his wash of pink happiness moulded comfortably alongside Richard's; he purred when he felt Richard return the nuzzle warmly, before Paul crouched in a submissive bow to his lover, belly partially exposed to Richard's claws, and Richard 's sharp teeth . Paul was purposefully prostrating himself in front of Richard, as Beta to his Alpha, willingly submitting to his mate and the one whom he recognised as the stronger being. Richard gave the same response as he always did, to lay his head against Paul's belly, to lick him where his heart still beat, to nuzzle his chest, his neck, his muzzle, accepting Paul as his mate and his subordinate, before he allowed Paul to stand again. 

Then it was time to fly, to spread wings and to lift heftily into the air, bony wing-joints stretched and leathery skin whooshing against the currents high above. Paul wheeled and flew around Richard , playfully darting against his mate, and making huffing snorting laughs when Richard wound his way playfully around him. They contineud to play-fight in mid-air before a herd of deer appeared far below; both dragons strightened out their flight patterns and dove, each one targeting a desperate deer, plucking them bodily, wriggling from the ground and demolishing them in one bite in mid air. Then they resumed their flight through the air, climbing, climbing, climbing, until they'd penetrated the lowest of the clouds and Paul gave a huffing, triumphant cry at the beauty of it spread around, soft and fluffy puffs of moisture looking for all the world as though they were strong enough to walk upon. 

He twisted and turned, and Richard chased him, playfully butting and nipping at him, seeming to want to catch him mid-flight and veering away at the last moment, both dragons unscathed and laughing. Then a strange sight presented itself to Paul, as of a strange human figure, made of nothing so amorphous as the clouds themselves, seemingly walking on top of them, as he himself had so craved to do such a short time before. Paul gave a questioning bugle and dropped down; Richard also had seen the strange sight and was investigating it, yet the figure dissipated beneath the disturbance of two pairs of dragon wings flapping so close by, whisping and whirling away as though it had never been. The dragons dipped down below the clouds and landed, chests heaving from their exertions, and they rested for a while, before slowly changing back into their human forms again, unabashed in their continued nudity.

"Did you see that? What was it?" Paul asked, and he didn't need to elaborate as to what he meant. 

"It can't have been what it looked like, surely," Richard said, as he blinked in disbelief. "It couldn't have been a human. Not at that altitude." 

"And it soon disappeared when we arrived, like it was made of clouds and was blown away by the force of our wings or something," Paul pointed out. 

"It couldn't have been a human," Richard repeated, yet Paul could tell that even he wasn't convinced by what otherwise would have been a logical argument. "No one could survive at that altitude, except for us."

"And perhaps the birds," Paul added, without rancour.

Richard nodded, yet still looked too distracted to properly reply or add further comment. Paul sighed, and ran one hand through his hair, mussing the strands so that they fanned his head in odd little peaks and waves. Richard noticed and despite his ongoing distraction, he laughed and affectionately flattened Paul's hair back down upon his head again, ending the impromptu grooming session by pressing a lingering kiss against Paul's forehead. Paul chuckled into the contact and propped his hands against Richard's still naked hips, thumbs rubbing gentle caresses against the other man's bare, heated skin. 

"It was probably a trick of the light or something," Richard finally offered, as he pointed up at the sky, referring to the weird thing they'd seen. "Or a tornado above the clouds."

"Probably. It certainly was a phenomenon. I can't explain it," Paul said, feeling frustrated over the fact that he couldn't. 

"Neither can I, darling; I don't think anyone could," Richard assured him, with a soft snort of laughter, even as he angled a baffled expression up at the clouds. "Hopefully we'll see it again. Next time, we'll try and get a better look at it." 

"Good idea. I suppose it's the only thing that we can do. Anyway, I fancy something to eat," Paul announced, quietly, as the first stirrings of hunger growled and trembled through his stomach.

"You ate twenty minutes ago; a whole deer, don't forget," Richard reminded him as he pinched Paul's lean stomach gently. "You tubby little dragonet." 

"I'm not tubby," Paul objected, with a snorted laugh of derision. "You're tubby." 

"Am not. I'm well-rounded. Besides, you like my curves. You told me so," Richard countered, laughing.

"Hmmm," Paul nodded, proving Richard's point by openly groping at Richard's body, hands tavelling from the other man's sides to his butt.

"Plenty of time for that later," Richard said, as he tipped Paul a wink. "Food first, fucking later." 

"Hmm," Paul repeated, with another grin of approval. "Now, I like the sound of that." 

Richard's only response was to tip his head back, and to laugh.

****

They stocked up on plenty of sausages and soft white buns, before they returned to the flat, hungry dragon-shifter mouths wrapped around ther impromptu batch of hot dogs hungrily. Paul loaded his with plenty of onions and mustard, whilst Richard added tomato ketchup to his in place of the mustard. Between them, they polished off three sausages and buns apiece, soon sitting back, satisfied, with full stomachs and a beer each once the food had gone. They rested for a while, waiting until the food had digested, before they cleared away and settled before the television, to waste away the final hours of daylight before the flickering screen. They managed to watch two films, before tiredness convinced them both that they needed to go to bed.

That night, their love-making was lazy, and slow, yet still satisfactory, both men climaxing with each other's names on their lips, and hands caressing and exploring sweating, naked bodies. Paul fell asleep in Richard's arms, body weary yet smilingly happy. As far as he could remember, he didn't wake again, and Richard had no nightmares to disturb their sleep, that night.

****


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Google proved a great help in providing further information about exsanguination; any mistakes are mine. 
> 
> (I hope no one actually keeps tabs on my Google searches from the past few months; I think they'd be very worried by what they'd find!)

"Jesus, is it ever hot today or what?" Flake grumbled, as he flumped down heavily beside Paul.

Both men were sitting behind the counter of Comic World, idling away the time until the next customer's appearance. Trade that morning had been a little slow, with faces coming and going with long stretches between them. Paul was expecting the business to pick up around lunchtime, when an influx of students would pile in, in much the same way as they always did. Lunchtimes and the end of hours always seemed to be their busiest times. 

"I hadn't noticed," Paul replied to Flake's earlier question, a little absent-mindedly. "And the last time I looked, my name wasn't Jesus." 

His thoughts were taken up instead with flying, of using his new body to feel free and leave the trappings of human life behind for a while. Flake typicaly ignored Paul's acerbic joke, instead focussing on the other part of his comment. 

"You hadn't noticed?" Flake repeated, in disbelief. "We've had temperatures in the high thirties and you hadn't noticed? What the hell, Paul? Have you got asbestos skin or something, all of a sudden? You used to feel the heat something chronic once upon a time, almost as bad as I do." 

"Like I said, I hadn't noticed," Paul repeated, uncertain as to what else he was supposed to say.

His new dragon blood made him innured to extremes of heat; in fact, he preferred it, disliking the cold if the temperatures dipped down too low. Flake still did not know about Paul's shifting secret, and Paul was determined to keep it under wraps for as long as he could, until at least the situation turned awkward.

"You really are Asbestos Man," Flake said. 

"And I think you've been reading comic books too long, Flake," Paul pointed out, with a laugh. "Asbestos Man, indeed."

"I don't need to read them, in your case. You're like a bloody mutated superhero, all of a sudden. Are you sure you haven't been bitten by a spider in the last few months? Been exposed to gamma radiation, perhaps? Or has William Stryker made you into the new Weapon X?" Flake asked, knowingly. "Adamantium bones, perhaps." 

"What the bloody hell are you going on about?" Paul asked. "First asbestos, now adamantium. Next you'll be rabbiting on about Vibranium or uru or something. I think you need to get out more, Flake." 

"I think I get out just enough, thanks. Once a month is more than enough, for me. You can talk, anyway; you work in a comic book store, the same as I do, the last I checked. Talking of getting out more, how was your date with Richard the other night? Worth the trip to that new pub, or what?" Flake asked, as he began to thumb through that day's orders, allocating comics to the appropriate person's name. 

Paul tried to stifle a sudden sigh of relief at the apparent change in subject; Flake had, at last, distracted himself from Paul's new temperature immunity. Paul hoped that the other man soon would forget all about it entirely and save him further discomfort. 

"The date was as good as ever, thanks, and the pub was nice," Paul said, with a smile. "The food was good, at any rate. Well worth the money, or what little we paid for it." 

"Ah, good value, then," Flake said, with a smile. "I like the sound of that. So you'd reccommend it then?" 

"Yeah, why not?" Paul asked, with a shrug and a smile. "I know we're going back at some point, anyway."

"Must be good," Flake observed, with an arch lift of amused eyebrows. "I might go there with Till one night, if it is that good. I think we're due for our monthly date, at any rate. We could even go on that double date you seemed interested in the other day."

"Oh?" Paul asked, in surpise. "I thought you weren't interested." 

Paul interrupted himself before he went further; Flake's seeming lack of interest was no indication at all for the man's true feelings on a subject. Paul knew that he should have taken that into proper account before he spoke. 

"I was thinking about it," Flake said, with a shrug. "I wanted to see what you thought of it first, before I made up my mind." 

"What? Were you waiting to see if we were poisoned first or something?" Paul snorted. "I can assure you, that the food was quite fresh and cooked thoroughly. The steak could have been a little more rare, though. It was too over-done for me." 

"Since when have you liked rare steak?" Flake asked, goggling openly at Paul. "I thought you hated anything that showed the slightest hint of pink meat."

Paul opened his mouth and closed it again, without a word ever passing his lips. He supposed that that was something else that had changed since his transformation. 

"Well, a man's tastes can change, can't they? It's a sign of getting older," Paul said, lamely, in the end, when the silence stretched out for too long and threatened to become awkward.

"Whilst that's true, I still can't imagine you changing your eating habits that completely," Flake mused. "Unless Richard's having more of an influence on you than I imagined."

"That might have something to do with it, yes," Paul said, with a tongue-in-cheek smile that Flake missed.

"Richard's fault. It's decided. I'd hate to be in love," Flake said, with a sour pout as though the very thought of it was suddenly offensive to him.

"And you don't love Till?" Paul asked, with a confused frown. 

"That's different," Flake insisted, and his face creased into a disgusted frown at the very thought of love and romance.

"How is that different?" Paul asked, laughing loudly at the other man's typical contradictions. 

"I'm not sappy with it, like you are, and neither is Till," Flake pointed out, as disapproving as ever of anything remotely romantic. 

"I'm not sappy. Anyway, there's nothing wrong with being sappy," Paul observed, a little offended by Flake's comments. 

Flake opened his mouth as though to argue further, yet the bell ringing over the shop's door alerted them to the presence of a customer. When their latest visitor hoved into view past the racks of brightly coloured comic books, they found that it was Schneider, and not the customer they'd been hoping for.

"Oh, it's you. I thought it was a customer," Paul said, a little disappointed.

"Well, if I'm gonna be that much of a disappointment, I can always leave again," Schneider replied, a little disgruntled, although his eyes still smiled a little. "I might have been buying a book." 

"Highly unlikely," Flake replied, dryly. "The last time I heard, you thought comic books were crassly over-commercialised pieces of crap, aimed at the witless and children."

"I did not say that, you liar," Schneider said, in disbelief. "I can't believe you just said that to me." 

"You all but implied that," Flake pointed out, as he narrowed his eyes at the alarmed man.

"Flake, enough," Paul said, sighing. 

Whilst he thought that the other man might have had a point, Paul did not want to see a potential argument blossoming in front of him. Flake huffed and abruptly decided he needed to take a piss, considering his presence was so seemingly undesired right then.

"What's his problem, today?" Schneider asked, as his surprised gaze followed Flake's retreating back.

"Just being typical Flake; you know how it is," Paul said, with a long suffering laugh that mingled with a sigh of equal value. "The hot weather probably doesn't help; it's making him a little grumpy. Well, grumpier than usual. Talking of the weather, he reckoned I was Asbestos Man, just now." 

"What the hell?" Schneider asked, with a sudden laugh and a confused frown at Paul. "That's a new one." 

"It's best not to ask, I think," Paul said, adroitly, with a wry smile.

"I suppose," Schneider said, still looking confused.

"Anyway, what can I do for you today, seeing as you're blatantly not here to grace my palm with silver," Paul said, as he stretched, joints popping and complaining at the sudden shift in movement.

Those sounds made Paul smile suddenly, reminding him of the countless times he'd shifted back and forth from dragon form to human. 

"Just had to get out of the luthier's for a bit," Schneider said, with a sigh. "It's too bloody hot, and Richard won't let Till put the air conditioning on. Last time Till tried, Richard almost froze to death. I wasn't sure whether he was being a prima-donna or something, until I noticed his skin was freezing." 

"Well, he's got poor circulation," Paul said, immediately, with a shrug. "He needs warmth all the time."

"Oh yeah, that's right; you would know something about that, wouldn't you? You do live with him," Schneider said, with a roll of his eyes. "Must be fun for you, not getting any relief from this bloody heat at home." 

"I don't notice it, either," Paul said. "Why d'you think Flake was calling me Asbestos Man?"

Schneider, at least, laughed at that, before he shook his head in feigned disbelief.

"What the fuck is going on in Berlin lately? Two men, working only a few doors apart, who also happen to be living together, and you're both freaks?" Schneider pointed out, not unkindly. "You both are qualifiers for being Asbestos Man, I think." 

"Don't be personal. It's not that uncommon to have bad circulation, you know," Paul pointed out, uncertain as to whether to be offended or not.

"Well, you're certainly made for one another. Richard doesn't stop talking about you at work, for one thing," Schneider said, glumly.

"And yet here you are, talking to me," Paul said, with an arch lift of his eyebrows. "Sure. It really was bothering you that much."

"Fuck you," Schneider said, after a brief and uncomfortably embarrassed pause. 

"Now, do you really have a reason for being here, or are you just gonna insult me and my life-partner all day?" Paul asked, with a laugh that took the sting of his words. "You've been doing nothing more than inserting your own foot in your mouth, since you first arrived here." 

"You're right; this isn't going well, is it? Isn't my day, plainly," Schneider said, with a long, and wearied, sigh. "Shall I go out and come back in again and pretend none of the last five minutes ever happened?" 

"Bit drastic," Paul replied, with a laugh, even as Flake returned, carrying two cold cans of Sprite, one of which he handed to Paul.

Paul thanked him and popped the ring pull with a fizz and a sigh, before he slurped at the refreshing liquid inside. 

"I don't want a drink, Flake," Schneider said, pointedly, before Flake had even had the chance to make an offer of one. 

"I thought you'd gone," Flake replied, in the tone of voice that implied that he wondered why Schneider still was there.

"Never mind," Schneider said, as he rolled his eyes at the still chortling Paul. "I''ll get my own drink when I leave." 

"Oh. Super. See you," Flake said, a little dismissively.

"I'm not going now, you dick-head," Schneider laughed. "I mean, when I leave. It could be now, could be in ten minutes time. I think I might stay here for two hours, just to piss you off." 

Flake popped open the lid of his can and pointedly ignored Schneider. Schneider didn't seem to care however; he merely grinned, which turned into a laugh, as he turned his attention back to Paul again.

"Did you hear about that murder, yesterday?" Schneider asked, apparently getting down to the point of his visit to Comic World. 

"Murder? No. I wasn't home for most of yesterday. I was out with Richard," Paul said, in surprise. "We didn't get back until late."

"Oh, like that is it? It's alright for some," Schneider teased, gently, before he caught Flake's pointed glare. "Anyway, yes, this murder. Some guy was found near that new gastropub place. The one in Charlottenburg. What's it called, again?" 

"Sanguine," Paul supplied, before Flake could. "I went there Saturday, with Richard."

"You really are living it up. Nice place, was it?" Schneider asked, with genuine interest. " I haven't had a chance to go there myself, yet."

"Can't be that nice. People die outside," Flake interjected, before Paul could say anything about the ambience of the place.

"You can't say it's connected, just because it happened nearby. It just was a coincidence. Much as I hate to seem like I'm advocating it, but murders have gotta happen somewhere. It's like saying the cinema's at fault if someone has a heart attack in the corridors," Schneider pointed out. 

"That's ... dramatic," Flake said, slowly. "Have you been taking prima-donna lessons from Paul's boyfriend or what?"

"I blatantly didn't just hear that, Flake," Schneider said, quickly, with a frown. 

"Well, what about this murder, anyway? What happened?" Paul asked, pointedly changing the subject, yet genuinely interested despite himself. 

"No one knows," Schneider said, with a quirk of his lips and a sudden shrug. "All anyone does know is that he was exsanguinated."

"Huh?" Flake asked, in obvious surprise. 

"Drained of blood, Flake," Paul muttered, after hastily swallowing another fizzing mouthful of Sprite.

"I know what bloody exsanguinated means, knob-head," Flake said, immediately. "I just think it's weird how someone's exsanguinated right outside somewhere called Sanguine. There's gotta be a connection." 

"Doubt it," Schneider said, in genuine disbelief, even as Paul sighed in his own disbelief. "If you're really gonna murder someone, would you really do it next door to a busy pub? Seriously? And would you really have time to fully exsanguinate someone before you're discovered?"

"I don't know," Flake said, musingly. "It depends, I suppose, on how regularly people actually pass by the murder site." 

"Why? Do you know how long it takes to completely drain someone of blood?" Schneider asked, suspiciously.

"A minute, roughly," Flake replied, with an easy shrug of slender shoulders.

"A minute? That's not possible, surely," Schneider said, in surprise. 

"Think about it. You've got a cardiac output of roughly five litres, per minute. If you cut someone's aorta or they had a massive aneurysm or they were involved in a particularly serious accident, you could potentially lose all of the circulating blood in your system in at least a minute, minimum," Flake explained, with a sage nod.

"How the hell do you know shit like this, anyway?" Schneider asked, in obvious disgust. "You haven't killed anyone, have you, Flake?" 

Paul choked back a sudden laugh at that. 

"No, but I trained in medicine, don't forget," Flake reminded him, blandly.

"Whilst I had forgotten that, I still think you're having me on," Schneider said, suspiciously.

"He is right, you know; it doesn't take as long as one would think," Paul said, thinking of the various animals that had recently bled out for the sake of a dragon's dinner. 

Although not having timed it himself, through not having a watch whilst in his dragon form, Paul knew that it hadn't taken long for the blood to pump out of a deer's slashed neck, for instance. 

"Jesus Christ, if I didn't know any better, I'd suspect either one of you as being a murderer," Schneider said, obviously mind-boggled at the new dearth of information he was receiving. "You're certainly both acting very knowledgable about this sort of thing, all of a sudden." 

"Not me. I was with Richard yesterday, and I didn't even know about any sort of murder, until you walked through that door," Paul said, with a smile, as he pointed to Comic World's front door. 

"And I was with Till, yesterday. At home," Flake said, calmly. 

"Fine. So you both have alibis," Schneider said. "Who just happen to be your partners, but that's neither here nor there. They're looking for whoever did it, in case they do it again."

"Why would they murder, again?" Flake asked, suspiciously.

"Why do it once?" Paul countered. "Usually in these circumstances, someone crazy enough to bleed someone out completely doesn't stop at just one victim."

"Says the big heap expert all of a sudden," Schneider snorted. 

"Well, it's common knowledge, isn't it?" Paul asked, with a baffled shrug, as he exchanged an equally baffled shrug with Flake. "You really need to watch TV more." 

"No thanks, if that's the kind of shit it fills your head with," Schneider said, sourly. "You two are bloody morbid." 

"Try reading a few comic books sometime, then you might realise we're not all that morbid. Take Judge Dredd, for instance; in one issue, someone actually got knifed up their arse-hole," Paul said, with a typically beautiful smile which contradicted his disgusting subject matter.

"If you don't mind ... I think I'm going to leave now," Schneider said, even as he began sildling away. "I feel as though I've had enough disturbing information for one day." 

Paul and Flake laughed at the sidling Schneider and they still both were laughing as the bell dinged above the door when Schneider left through it. Despite his obvious disgust, Schneider still shot them a grin through the window of Comic World, and tilted his hand at them in a farewell wave as he headed back in the direction of Lindemann's Luthiers.

"Think he'll be back?" Flake asked, with a snort of amusement as he nodded in Schneider's direction.

"Yeah, he will be; don't worry. He'll miss your scintillating company too much, otherwise," Paul replied, with a sudden deep chuckle. 

"Fuck you, Landers," Flake immeidately said, wthout even looking at the other man and proving Paul's point with his choice of words.

Paul's chuckles grew louder and more pronounced, yet he did not take offence; he was too used to Flake's mannerisms by now to do so. 

"Oh, I forgot to say, did you know Olli's working at Sanguine, now?" Paul asked, with a smile.

"No, I didn't, but I do now, don't I?" Flake asked, sourly and obviously unimpressed.

"Yeah, he served us when we were in there," Paul said, with a shrug. "He seems to like it."

"Great, super, good for him," Flake murmured, as he began to fan himself with that day's work order. "It's too bloody hot." 

Paul took the not so subtle hint and changed the subject, glad for the fact that a customer wandered in from the over-heated outside to distract them both from awkward, stilted conversation for a while.


	7. Chapter 7

The rest of the week passed slowly, lazily, and each day was washed in a heated haze; Paul and Richard relished the heat however, basking in the sunlight like overgrown lizards, despite the migraines that threatened them whenever they went outside for too long. Everyone in Berlin complained about the unseasonal heat and humidity, and all waited for the temperatures to cool, for the hot spell to pass, and for Berlin to be drenched in rain-storms and thunderstorms to take the edge away from soaring temperatures. 

That Friday night, Till and Flake joined Paul and Richard at Sanguine, although they did little more that night than to prop up the bar, sampling some of the beers on offer that they hadn't tried before. Till seemed impressed by the place and even Flake was smiling, nodding appreciatively over the decor and the ambience that surrounded them, despite the uneasy, almost scared looks he gave to the other patrons of the place. They'd barely consumed their first round of drinks before Olli arrived on shift, grinning at them and nodding at both Paul and Richard. He even nodded, a little more shyly at Flake, and Till by proxy. 

"Super; I'm glad to see that you came back,"Olli said, to Richard and Paul .

The cat, Sooty, was once again in residence, and whilst he still seemed scared of Richard and Paul, he seemed content to remain mostly by Flake's side, curled up against his arm and purring loudly. Paul caught the look of sheer disappointment in Olli's face at that, when his friend saw Sooty curled between Flake and Till, as though the cat's acceptance of them was not necessarily something to be desired. Paul didn't even know how to ask what was wrong without potentially coming across as weird.

Their evening continued pleasantly enough, with the four men taking their drinks to a side table when the bar grew too full and too rowdy to properly enjoy their drinks in peace. Paul stood to get the rounds in, when their second one had gone, slipping his way through the crowds and inadvertently ending up beside the man that he'd seen the previous time he'd been in Sanguine with Richard, that had stared at him in the rest-room. Paul tried to ignore him, tried to flag down Olli so that he could place his next order, yet he was too busy serving someone else, and it looked as though the rest of the waitrons were equally as busy. Paul had a bad feeling about the man standing next to him, yet he tried to shuffle away as best as he could, in the limited space that was afforded him by the crowds at the bar.

"You're new here," the man said, by way of opening a conversation.

Paul didn't want to answer at first, yet he also didn't want to come across as rude or ignorant; he merely gave the man a short sharp nod of agreement and a swift glance. The man creeped him out with his too-stillness, and his ever staring eyes that were not quite human and were not dragon either. Sooty, Paul noticed, seemed just as scared of the man as he was of Paul, which went some way to convincing Paul that there was something in his reticence of the other man.

"How about I buy you a drink, to welcome you as one of the more regular clientele," the man said, with an attempt at a welcoming grin that just came across as smarmy. "I assume that by your secondary trip here, that you will become a regular. I'm here all the time." 

"No. Thank you for the offer. I'm taken," Paul said, shortly. "I can get my own drinks. Or my life-partner can." 

"Its only a drink, man, relax," the man laughed, as he raised his hands before his chest, palms out and facing Paul in a warding gesture. 

"Nothing is ever merely just a drink. I'm not interested. I already have a partner that I'm happy with. I'm not on the market," Paul said, stiffly as he tried flagging Olli down again.

Anger was simmering below his skin and the dragon inside him responded to it; Paul knew that if the man didn't get off his back any time soon, then he'd have to risk shifting and forcing him to leave him alone. Olli finally glanced his way, before he nodded, and smiled to let Paul know that he'd seen him and was on his way, yet still he would not come quick enough to avoid a potential dragon-shaped disaster by Paul's current reckoning.

"I'll make it worth your while," the man told Paul, as one hand snaked out to start wrapping around Paul's wrist.

Paul jerked away, not wanting to be touched by someone he didn't know nor want anywhere near him, a sudden deep snarl of warning leaking past his lips. His inner dragon curled and strained to be let free, aching for a fight, aching to defend himself, and he snarled again, louder that time, and deeper, yet those around them took little notice of the strange noise, as though they were used to hearing noises like that all the time. He felt the blackness of his growing anger leach through his link with Richard, and the sudden stab of bright blue alarm that was his mate's immediate response. The man leant in, undeterred, and grinned at Paul, before he spoke again, gaze travelling with interest over Paul's body.

"Tell me, just what manner of beast are you?" he asked. "You're definitely not human." 

"Not interested," Paul said, as he glowered at the man. "That's what I am to you." 

He considered just punching the man and having done with it, yet a familiar voice distracted him. 

"Do we have a problem here?" Richard suddenly asked, from behind Paul as he laid one possessive hand against Paul's hip. "Are you making trouble for my partner?" 

Even though he was looking at Paul, Richard was clearly talking to the man that had been harassing Paul, a sense that was exacerbated when he turned a ferocious, heated glare upon the man in question. Paul could feel Richard's jealous anger riding behind his eyes like a black and flickering flame, and he leant against Richard's body, languidly relishing his heated closeness. 

"No, man," the man replied, as he reared away, hands splayed before him in a warding, defensive gesture. "But I think your friend was kind of being rude. I offered him a drink and he refused it." 

"Friend? Hardly," Paul questioned, in annoyance, feeling the blackness of it flare and flicker over his bond with Richard. "I told you I already had a partner, and that I wasn't on the market."

"He doesn't have to take a drink from someone if he doesn't want it," Richard said, at almost the same time, threateningly. "That's his prerogative, not yours." 

"And you own him, do you?" the man asked Richard, mockingly.

"Hardly. He's free to do what he wants, but we are stil partners," Richard said. "That means that when he says he's not on the market, then he's not on the market. C'mon, Paulchen, let's go. Forget the drink. I'm bored here." 

Paul nodded, all too ready to leave Sanguine entirely for the night; they wound their way through the crowds back to their table once more, anger all but crackling from their skin in electric, fiery waves.

"Where's the drinks? Jesus Christ, what happened?" Till asked, in sudden surprise when he saw them, quick senses and faster eyes catching on to the fact that Paul and Richard were markedly riled.

"Some fuck-head tried to pick up my partner, is what happened," Richard growled, hand tightening still further aganst Paul's hip.

Paul felt Richard's blackened anger behind his eyes and leant in to him again; he attracted Richard's attention back to his face again, and pecked kisses against his partner's mouth, in an attempt to calm him a little. Paul had heard the dragon in Richard's voice, had heard the first crackings of Richard's shift in his body, and kisses were the only thing he could think of to bring his lover back into himself again, despite Paul's own dark anger still coursing through his veins. He tried sending a wash of golden love to further calm his lover and felt a corresponding stab of love and amber reassurance from Richard's side of the bond. 

"Calmness, Reesh," Paul murmured against Richard's lips, so quietly that only Richard would be able to hear his words. "We're not looking for a fight. It's over. Think nothing but calmness." 

He could taste ashes and fire on Richard's lips, and on Richard's tongue, but Paul was glad to note that the other man softened a little against him, body responding to Paul's gentleness, his love and his calming words. By the time that Paul drew away again, Richard was smiling again, albeit a little sheepishly.

"I'm sorry," he said, more to Paul than to the others.

"Why should you be sorry? You were only protecting what's yours," Paul shot back. "Besides, if you hadn't intervened, I would have decked him, anyway." 

Richard's laughter was sudden, and loud, and joyful, and he pulled a suddenly grinning Paul closer agaisnt him. When they turned back to Till and to Flake, it was to find Till grinning and Flake looking confused. 

"I've never seen someone bring someone back from the brink of a boiling rage with mere kisses before," Till observed, obviously impressed. "I am impressed." 

"Got him wrapped right around here," Paul said, as he pointed at his little finger with a cheeky grin. "I know exactly what works on Reesh to keep him sweet." 

Richard made a noise of feigned objection, yet his gaze was tender as he stared at Paul, a wash of violet amusement filtering through their link, arms still wrapped securely around Paul's waist. It almost felt to Paul as though Richard was frightened to let go of him and, despite the amused pat he angled towards Richard's chest, Paul was content to remain where he was. Richard smiled, obviously picking up on the pink and orange wash of Paul's happy contentment. 

"I'll have to remember that. Or Flake will have to," Till said, as he shot Flake a sideways look. "A few more kisses wouldn't go amiss, y'know, young Flake." 

Flake merely swore at him and stomped off to the restroom in a huff. Rchard and Paul laughingly followed him, and it was as they were relieving themselves, that another male came in, with distinct, amber-tinted cat-like eyes, and a straggly beard. His grin, when it came, was bright and friendly, and he merely nodded at them as he took his place beside Flake at the urinals. Whilst the newcomer did not attempt to make conversation, nor make any move to intimidate them in any way, he did lean in to sniff them one by one. He nodded at Richard and Paul, as though in acceptance and in recognition of a like-minded being, yet he frowned a little at Flake. The trio remained silent until the man with the cat-like eyes wandered away again, door banging loudly shut behind him. There was a brief silence then, heavy and meaningful; Richard and Paul grinned in amusement at each other, but didn't speak. Instead, it was Flake who broke it, eyes wide behind the shield of his glasses, cheeks a little flushed with embarrassment. 

"Did that guy just sniff me?" Flake asked, with obvious alarm mingled with his embarrassment. "Why did he just sniff me?" 

"Probably drunk. Didn't have a clue as to what he was doing, obviously," Paul murmured, with a laugh and a shrug more aimed at Richard than at Flake.

It wasn't the best explanation ever, he knew, yet it was better than admitting to the truth that he suspected that the cat-eyed stranger was a shifter, just like Richard and Paul themselves. Paul wasn't sure just what kind of shifter the other man was, yet he as betting that it was a cat of some kind, judging by the shape of his eyes and the way that he moved with a feline grace and predator's strut. 

"He didn't look drunk to me, Paulchen," Flake pointed out, dubiously.

"He's probably a weirdo, then, if you'd rather that explanation. In your case, it's best just to leave people like that well alone," Richard said, as he zipped himself up again and headed for the basins.

"What d'you mean, in my case?" Flake challenged, as he followed in Richard's footsteps, Paul in amused pursuit. 

"Richard and I can look after ourselves," Paul pointed out, as he plunged his hands beneath the gushing warm waters of the tap. "You can't so much, Flake. Besides, he was all smiles with us. It was only you that he was giving the side-eye." 

Flake made a noise of ill-mannered contempt, before he said - "You know, this place scares me. It's filled wth weird people. I'm not quite sure I like it, here."

"Give it time. I'm sure it will grow on you," Paul replied, stoutly, even as Richard began to wander back into the gastro-pub proper again, attention obviously wandering to leaving, and to home again. 

Paul followed suit without complaint, with Flake still complaining about being sniffed, beside him. They stopped long enough to collect Till and to settle their bill with an apologetic Olli, before they made their towards the door of Sanguine. It was as they were turning their steps towards where they'd parked their cars, however, that Till decided that he needed to take a leak.

"You should have gone while we were actually, you know, inside Sanguine," Flake told him, a little annoyed by his partner's oversight. "When the rest of us went." 

"I didn't need to go then, did I?" Till asked, a little annoyed by Flake's inherent sarcasm. "Besides, I was watching to make sure that guy at the bar didn't come and give you grief while your hands were full."

"Some of us have our hands more full than others," Richard muttered, as he gestured towards Paul with one jabbing thumb. 

Paul pretended to ignore him, nose turned up into the air, whilst Flake shot Richard a typically disgusted look. Till laughed, obviously appreciating the off-colour remark, to which Richard merely grinned. Paul watched as Till disappeared down an alleyway; he shifted a little impatiently when a sudden cramp attacked his left leg and that was when he caught the scent on the air, thick and heavy and filled with blood and lack of life. Paul cast a sudden, alarmed glance toward Richard, yet the other man had yet to notice the scent; Paul reached out with his fingertips and touched the back of his lover's hand, as he sent a wash of bright blue alarm though their link. Richard turned a thankfully silent glance upon Paul and Paul nodded towards the alleyway, silently lifting his head and surreptitiously miming scenting something to draw his lover's attention to the blood-rich aroma. Flake was too busy watching the people walking past to pay much attention to them, yet Paul did not want to slip up and bring Flake's curiosity upon their heads all the same. Richard lifted his head slightly, nostrils flaring and his eyes widened when the breeze shifted, and he, too, caught the same scent, just as Till exploded out of the alleyway, wide-eyed and a little haphazard in his movements. 

"That was quick," Flake observed, with some obvious surprise. "You couldn't have wanted to go that badly." 

"No, there's a fucking dead body down there," Till said, impatiently, as he pointed back towards the alleyway. "I couldn't go with that thing staring at me."

"What?" Flake asked, as he started forward to have a look, yet he was stilled in place by Till gripping his arm roughly and holding him back.

"Dont go down there, you idiot. It's a dead body, I tell you," Till said, urgently. "You don't need to see it. I'm calling the police." 

Flake looked for a moment to Paul as though he was about to argue, yet finally he nodded, and Till's hand fell away, as he dug his mobile phone out of his pocket, and made the call to the police. Richard and Paul exchanged glances but remained otherwise silent; they could smell the death on the air, stronger now as another faint breeze shifted the iron rich scent of blood closer to them. It smelt like a recent kill to Paul, but he could not say a thing about what he suspected in front of Till and Flake, for fear of having to explain why he knew such a thing.

The police, when they arrived, confirmed Till's announcement, yet whilst the others remained nearby, they had little to say or to add to Till's statement when he gave it. None of them had seen the body, as Till had, after all and Richard and Paul were not about to admit to the fact that they'd been aware of it even before Till had announced it. 

A crowd had began to gather, soon cleared away by impatient policemen, and eventaully, when Till had little else to add to the questioning, they were allowed to leave, pending further call-ups for help. Paul knew that it was unlikely that either he, Richard or Flake would be able to help, yet if they were called upon by the police, then they would have liittle choice but to go along wth anything they were asked to do. Flake's face was a portrait in sourness as they left, and Paul could agree with him on that; none of them had any love lost for the police or for people in authority, after all.


	8. Chapter 8

"Well, what an evening that was," Paul murmured, later that night, after he'd settled in bed with Richard.

His head was nestled against Richard's shoulder and his eyes were partially closed; he felt comfortable and comforted, fingers describing patterns against Richard's naked chest. He felt his lover shift a little closer to him, before Richard's lips pressed a lingering kiss against his scalp. Paul closed his eyes, and smiled, a deep dragon-purr rumbling in his chest and throat at the contact. Richard chuckled against him and pulled him closer still, arms wrapping ever more tightly around him. Richard's contentment was a bright wash of orange mingled with the pink of his happiness, colours which meshed perfectly with Paul's own contented happiness. Paul felt a sudden golden dragon kiss coiling through their link and he returned it, warmly, with a smile. 

"Hmm," Richard finally agreed against him. "Wonder who murdered the human?" 

"Dunno," Paul murmured back. "Guess we'll find out eventually. Hmm?"

"Hmm," Richard murmured, with a languid nod and a yawn. "That guy was an arsehole." 

"Which one d'you mean?" Paul murmured, a little confused as to who his lover was referring to.

His mind immediately sifted through images of the man at the bar, harassing him, swiftly followed by memories of the cat-eyed man in the rest-room. 

"The guy at the bar," Richard replied, patiently. 

"Oh, yeah, he was," Paul agreed. "I thought you were gonna hit him or something." 

"And _I_ thought _you_ were gonna do the same," Richard countered, with a soft laugh. "I've never seen you so angry." 

"Well, I don't like people making unwelcome advances towards me," Paul murmured, as he slitted his eyes lazily and yawned.

"Neither do I, especially towards my own mate," Richard growled, and there was enough of his dragon in his voice to make Paul shiver with pleasure. "But you were kinda sexy though. My angry little dragonet." 

"Only kinda sexy? That's harsh," Paul said, as he tilted a laugh and a smile up at Richard.

"All right. A lot sexy," Richard amended, with a gentle laugh of his own, and the violet of his amusement wound through their link in soft coils of coloured light. 

"How sexy?" Paul teased, still grinning at his lover. "Show me." 

Richard made a noise of interested pleasure at that, mouth soon descending upon Paul's own, as he left chuffing kisses against Paul's lips. Paul closed his eyes and relaxed against Richard's body, lulled by the gentle motions of his lover's hands against his skin. He sighed as Richard gently encouraged him onto his abdomen, before the other man left the bed to find the lube. 

Their love-making that night started slowly and tenderly, soon morphing into something more desperate and rough, filled with sharply biting mouths and sharper, louder cries of arousal. Paul's climax, when it rolled through him, was the most intense he'd had in a while, leaving him weak and shuddering in its wake; once again, Richard's teeth sank into the soft flesh of Paul's shoulder, marking him, claiming him, ensuring that Paul still was his. Paul's pleasured cries were loud and willing, declarations of love falling from his lips mingled with cries of Richard's name, as the bright gold-flecked red of his release mingled easily with the corresponding colours of his mate's own release. Richard eased away and pressed kisses against Paul's abused skin, apologising silently with a bright rill of lime green over their bond for rough treatment rendered. Paul merely lay still and basked in the attention lavished upon his body; he smiled, eyes half closed and pleasure still racing through his veins, orange contentment washing through their link to meet with Richard's pink happiness. Paul reached for Richard, and closed his hand around his lover's; Richard squeezed his fingers gently, and returned the smile, but they remained silent. Neither man spoke at all, and neither needed to, when they could see each emotion rendered in comforting colours behind equally vivid dragon eyes; they remained silent until they both slipped blissfully into sleep a short time later.

****

On Monday, there was another fire, which broke out in the Sweetie Pie Bakery on Alexanderplatz itself; Paul and Richard saw it all whilst they stood outside the Alexa, clutching their paper sacks filled with baguettes and pretzels for lunch, cigarettes dangling from lips or fingers as they chatted. They watched as the firemen arrived, soon directing jets of water upon the flames as the fire licked the sides of the building, and danced in the shadows of the windows. Paul and Richard could even hear the sounds of it crackling over the noise and confusion and the sounds of the people gathering across Alexanderplatz to watch. As far as they could see, everyone had managed to escape the fire-ridden bakery, one man being dragged out of the back far later than everyone else, supported by a fireman that reminded Paul a little of Richard. That made him smile a little despite the seriousness of the situation, before he turned his partial attention upon his partner.

"Did you ever think of being a fireman, Reesh?" Paul asked, quietly, a little distractedly as the firemen continued to fight the flames nearby.

Despite the fact that the earlier solitary fireman had reminded him of his life-partner, he knew that most kids wanted to be firemen, or policemen, or even astronauts at some stage or another. 

"Yeah, actually, when I was a kid," Richard said, with a distant, almost fond smile, as though he was reliving nice or potentially amusing memories and perhaps he was. "I mostly wanted to go around driving the great big truck, you know?" 

Paul huffed in amusement, and nodded, before he stuck his cigarette between his lips again and inhaled. His eyes closed, but he didn't open them again, even when Richard spoke, voice soft and thoughtful.

"Paulchen?" Richard asked, as the soft moss green of his thoughtfulness filtered across their bond.

"Hmm?" Paul asked, from around his mouthful of cigarette and smoke. 

"D'you think there's a connection between this fire and the one at our block of flats the other day?" Richard asked. "It does seem a bit of a coincidence." 

"I dunno. Maybe," Paul asked, as he cracked one eye open to stare thoughtfully at Richard. "I hadn't thought about it before, to be honest, but now that you mention it, you might be right. Arsonist, d'you think?" 

"Maybe," Richard replied, with a shrug, before he fell silent again. 

Paul watched him for a while, with one eye still closed, before he opened his other eye and returned his attention to the firemen. He didn't speak, merely stood there, in silence, shoulder idly leaning against Richard's own. Then he spluttered on a cough, and a great swiftly inhaled mouthful of smoke, as a sudden thought crossed his mind . 

"Seems kinda crass to stand here smoking when there's a fire nearby," he explained, at Richard's suddenly alarmed, and questioning, look. 

"Hmm," Richard grunted in agreement, before he smiled. "Seems kinda crass standing here at all, given what we really are, smoking or otherwise."

He winked conspiratorially at Paul and Paul laughed at that, before he nodded. 

"Then again, it's not like we started it," he pointed out, wth an arch lift of his eyebrow in the face of Richard's amusement. "You won't let me flame yet." 

"You will. Why don't you try it this weekend?" Richard asked, as his grin widened over Paul's immediate and obvious excitement. "You've mastered flying without too much injury to yourself."

Paul snorted dryly with a sarcastic roll of his eyes. He'd perpetrated plenty of injuries upon his own body, giving himself sprained wrists and ankles, nicked wings and plenty of bruises to last him a lifetime; those injuries lessened over time with the more practice he had, and under Richard's watchful eye, his flying also improved. Richard often mused, with a soft wash of wistful olive green, that he'd wished he'd had the same thing, to have someone watching over him whilst he'd learned, instead of visiting the draconic school of hard knocks alone. It was because of this that he didn't want to see Paul in the same situation, inasmuch because he knew how difficult it was, as well as because he loved him. 

"Seriously?" Paul asked, trying to tamp down his excitement so t hat it wouldn't show in his voice or his posture. 

Paul knew, however, that he should have known better; his silvery excitement, mingled with pine green nerves, were there for Richard to see easily in striated colours behind his eyes, and to smell upon his skin. 

"Seriously," Richard agreed, with a blast of brightly coloured amusement. "You've already almost singed me in your excitement sometimes. You're gonna flame properly, and entirely accidentally, at some point. You might set alight to yourself, a passing car or cow or even my pretty little arse. Might as well direct it purposefully somewhere." 

"Hmm, well, we wouldn't wanna harm your arse. I like your arse," Paul said, as a grin brightened his face and caused deep lines to radiate from the corners of his eyes. "I'll look forward to that. Your arse, as well as learning to flame, before you ask, Reesh. I know you. And here we are, still talking about fire when all that shit's going on."

He stabbed his cigarette in the direction of the bakery fire which even now was being beaten down by the continued vigilence and skill of the firemen attacking it.

"Well, change the subject, then," Richard pointed out, in sudden amusement.

"Okay. What are we having for dinner tonight?" Paul asked, blandly.

Richard turned a disbelieving gaze upon Paul, smoke curling up from the cigarette still clamped between his lips. Paul grinned at him cheekily and shrugged expansively, paper bag filled with food crinkling with the movement. 

"You asked me to change the subject, so I changed the subject," he said, a little defensively. "What more d'you want?"

Richard snorted, before he admitted - "Of all the things I was expecting you to talk about, I wasn't expecting you to ask about bloody dinner, Paulchen." 

"What? I'm hungry. Of course I'm gonna talk about food, if I'm hungry," Paul snorted back. "Seriously, what do you want for your dinner?" 

Richard sighed, before he shrugged with one fluid, languid movement. 

"I dunno. Chicken pie, perhaps?" he asked, grabbing at mental food-related straws. 

"Okay. Why not? We can have it with loads of gravy, and mashed potatoes and grated cheese," Paul enthused, hopefully. 

Richard laughed at that, his amusement a warm and colourful thing behind Paul's eyes, as he stubbed his cigarette butt out beneath the toe of his boot. 

"Now what?" Paul asked, smiling himself. "Now what's so funny?"

"You are, as per usual," Richard replied, with an affectionate snort of laughter. "You're like a big kid when it comes to food. You're always hungry." 

"I have a large stomach," Paul admonished, as he patted his abdomen pointedly. "I'm a beast." 

"Beast is right," Richard said , even as he leant in to press a kiss against Paul's temple. "Adorable little beastly dragonet."

Paul closed his eyes and leant into Richard's warmth, smiling as he did so. He opened his eyes again when Richard tapped lightly upon his back with one open hand, catching, as he did so, Richard's affectionate smile turned upon him.

"C'mon, the fire's out now. Excitement's over," Richard said, already looking bored now that the action had finaly dwindled almost to nothing. "We'd best be getting inside." 

"Hmm, I suppose," Paul nodded, as Richard led the way inside Alexa, where it was a little cooler than outside, although not by much. 

Richard smiled and reached out for Paul, before he folded his hand around Paul's own. Paul shot him an amused expression and squeezed his lover's hand gently, pleased by the silent contact, and the prolonged show of copper affection decorated with strands of gold; that one gesture, coupled with their private rainbow of dragon-colours, seemed oddly intimate to Paul, more privately theirs, and made all the sweeter for Richard slotting his fingers through Paul's. They continued walking in companionable silence until they reached the door of Comic World.

"So, I'll see you tonight, darling," Richard said, as he stared at Paul at close range. 

"Yup," Paul nodded. "I'll be here, same place as I always am." 

Richard smiled at that and leant in, to press a warm kiss against Paul's mouth. Paul closed his eyes and responded, lips working gently at lips with soft sounds of mutual enjoyment working loose from kissing mouths. Paul smiled into the contact, just enjoying the kiss for what it was, simple, intimate, affectionate, oddly joyful and warm. He felt Richard's returning smile, and felt the propriatory hand that the other man propped against the back of his head as he deepened the kiss, tongue sliding playfully alongside Paul's own. Paul rumbled out a pleasured note at that, and felt immediately saddened when Richard finally pulled away to rub one thumb against Paul's cheek.

"See you tonight," Richard murmured, as he nuzzled Paul's nose in a gentle little Eskimo kiss.

Paul nodded and watched until Richard reached the door of Lindemann's Luthiers and tipped him a final salute, before he wandered inside Comic World.

"Finally," Flake said, when he saw him. "You were taking so long, I thought monsters had got you." 

"Monsters? It's highly doubtful that monsters would get me," Paul said, with a snort. 

"Why?" Flake asked, in sudden amusement. "What could you do against a ravening werewolf for instance?" 

"I could think of quite a few things, actually," Paul said, with a grin, as his mind conjured up images of jetting flames and ripping claws and jaws. "They wouldn't last long against me, in all honesty." 

"A werewolf? You could take on an actual werewolf? I severely doubt that, Paulchen," Flake laughed. "That's like me wrestling a lion and actually winning. Ain't happening, Paulie." 

"Oh, I dunno. Given half the chance and an expertly thrown steak, you might win," Paul said , with a shrug. "And no, I don't know why you'd just happen to have a handy steak in your pocket, just when you're attacked by lions, by the way, before you ask. I don't have an answer for that. Just go along with the illogical moment."

"Oh, right. Super. I was wondering," Flake admitted, with a snort. "What was the hold-up with the food, anyway? There'd better be a good reason. I'm hungry." 

"If you want your food any quicker, you can always get it yourself," Paul pointed out. "It is always me who's leaving the shop to buy it, just so you know."

"No.That would actually require me to leave the shop and actually talk to people," Flake pointed out, with a disgusted, uncomfortable expression upon his face. "That sort of thing is better left to you." 

"Oh, I dunno; I don't think it is, necessarily," Paul said with a shrug. "A lot of people are actually massive arse-holes. I could do without it at the best of times." 

"Well, you got that right in one," Flake said, as he snagged the paper bag from Paul's unresisting grip. "Anyway. I'm assuming the two massive meat filled baguettes are yours?" 

"Yup," Paul replied, cheerfully . "And the two packages of doughnuts are mine, too. The rest is yours." 

"One solitary cheese baguette and one very small chocolate eclair," Flake pointed out dryly.

"Well, if you wanted more or something else, then you should have asked for it, shouldn't you? I'm not a mind-reader, Flake," Paul replied. "I might be a lot of things, but I'm not that magical." 

"You're not magical, at all," Flake snorted, as he stared at Paul quizzically. "Perhaps in your dreams, you are." 

"I wouldn't like to take bets on that," Paul said, with a roll of his eyes and a barely hidden grin.

Flake merely gave him the middle finger as he sank his teeth into his one solitary cheese baguette.

****


	9. Chapter 9

Paul inhaled the sweet, heavy scent of roses, as he waited for Richard to return from the closest ice cream stand with his requested sweet, cold treat. He closed his eyes and smiled, before he lifted his face up to the late afternoon sun, just beginning to dip down ever further towards the horizon. He wondered what it would be like to shift now, to let the air fan over his currently human-flesh-caged wings, to soar and to fly and to truly live in his dragon form. He knew, however, that he couldn't risk that, couldn't risk being seen and captured and potentially experimented upon. His mind, both waking and dreaming, had run over numerous possibilities, all of which left him scared and cold and almost depressed, on the verge of tears and a near breakdown. He couldn't leave Richard alone, either, through taking such a risk, so his wings stayed furled inside his human form, cramped and impatient, yet safe. 

He smelt Richard even before he heard the other's footfalls coming closer and felt the warm copper of Richard's affection, overlaid by the sweet, cold scent of the ice cream he held. Paul caught the aroma of chocolate and strawberry; he'd picked double-chocolate chip, with sticky lashings of extra chocolate sauce, whilst Richard had plumped seemingly for the strawberry ice cream. Paul inhaled again and chuckled when he realised, by scent alone, just how much strawberry sauce Richard had asked for; the ratio of sauce to ice cream was almost equal. 

"You know, that much strawberry sauce will likely rot your teeth," Paul murmured, before Richard had even stopped at his side. 

"Says the dragonet with closed eyes and two litres of chocolate sauce," Richard huffed as he waved Paul's requested ice cream beneath his nose. "Just eat it and worry about your teeth later. Besides, I don't think a dragon's teeth fall out easily. We can also grow new ones."

"We can do that?" Paul asked, in surprise, as he finally opened his eyes.

"Yeah," Richard said, with a confirming nod. "I had one knocked out once and it grew back in an hour." 

"What did you do to knock out a tooth, Reesh?" Paul asked, with an interested laugh, as he took his first lick of ice cream with an appreciative purr. 

Richard suddenly looked embarrassed and seemed almost as though he wasn't going to answer. 

"Richard," Paul said, with an amused huff, as he prodded his mate gently through their link with a wash of feigned grey irritation. 

"I flew into the side of a barn by accident," Richard muttered, voice barely audible. "I scared the cows inside."

"I bet you bloody did. They probably thought they were dinner," Paul laughed, as he grinned from behind his ice cream.

"One was," Richard grinned. "So the meal made up for my accident." 

"I bet," Paul smiled, before he licked his ice cream again. "You know this is really good. You should try this." 

He held out the ice cream in Richard's direction, and watched as the other man licked at it, translucent eyes trained wickedly upon Paul's face. Richard licked again, tongue sliding over the surface of the ice cream more slowly that time, a deep, almost orgasmic groan leaking past his parted lips as he did so. Paul swallowed, feeling a ball of lust lodge somewhere in the region of his throat; his dick stirred into partially interested life and Richard laughed; undoubtedly, he could smell Paul's arousal as clearly as he could see the purple hues of it behind his eyes. 

"You are a cock tease, Richard Kruspe," Paul murmured, with a gentle smile.

"I've been called worse things," Richard murmured back. "And besides, I don't tease. Whatever I've got, babe, is yours." 

"I know," Paul said, smugly, which made Richard laugh. 

Paul licked at Richard's ice cream when it was offered to him, tongue describing patterns into the thick and syrupy sauce; he could smell Richard's own arousal heavy in the air, further tinged by a wash of interested colours through their link and he eased away with a smug grin, one point in his favour in the war of teasing that had suddenly sprung up between them. They meandered through the park then, enjoying the late afternoon sun and watching the people stroll by or sunbathing, whilst they continued to eat ther ice cream. After a while, Paul became aware of being followed. He didn't say anything at first, merely observed, and watchful, but apparantly Richard had noticed the same thing, alerted to it by the turquoise of Paul's sudden anxiety. Whatever caught Paul's notice, always invariably caught Richard's; not much could get past the all encompassing attention of a dragon-shifter, after all, even without the soul-bond they shared. 

Paul partially turned, and saw a familiar figure nearby, one that he vaguely recognised, although he wasn't entirely sure where from. Richard nudged him, attracting his attention back to his face again. 

"It's that man from Sanguine, isnt it? The one I nearly fought, over you," Richard murmured, as he gestured surreptitiously with one hand in the man's direction. "Don't make it obvious that we've noticed him, though, Paulchen." 

Paul didn't immediately respond, other than to nod swiftly to indicate that he'd heard, a frown of annoyance crossing his face at the realisation that Richard was right.

"What does he want through following us?" Paul asked eventually, voice purposefully pitched low. "Assuming he is following us." 

He hid his mouth from view by purposefully taking a lick of his ice cream, long and slow and languid as they had been before. 

"Of course he is; he keeps looking in our direction and wherever we go, he goes," Richard said, from behind the shelter of his own dripping cone. "He seems more interested in us than the array of human flesh on the grass." 

Richard pointed towards the sunbathers, with a vaguely disgusted grimace. Paul couldn't stop the immediate thought that the humans were cooking themselves, ready to be consumed by dragons and he immediately turned away, immediately ashamed of himself for such thoughts. He was glad for the fact that Richard still was invested in puzzling over their brand new stalker, than paying attention to Paul's red soaked shame. 

"Maybe we should approach him, and ask him what he wants," Paul suggested, more as a way of distracting his mind from disturbing thoughts of what constituted as a dragon's dinner than for any other reason. "I realise that that is quite awkward, by the way. How do you word that question?" 

Richard huffed out a laugh at that, and he licked his ice cream studiously whilst he thought. HIs gaze dodged from Paul, to the humans and back to the man again.

"Perhaps we should walk again, to see if he follows us still. If he still is, then we approach him. If he ses us both coming for him, perhaps he'll get scared off," Richard suggested. "He's probably a creepy stalker. We can easily handle those." 

Paul huffed dryly and nodded; he knew that there was little that could stand against a dragon, after all. 

"Let's do it," he said, before reaching out to take Richard's hand in his own.

Richard smiled and his fingers clasped gently against Paul's own; they wandered slowly away, joined hands swinging slowly between them, as they did so. They wandered almost to the zoo, and stopped outside to finish their ice creams; they could hear the sounds of the closest animals to the gate creating a ruckus, undoubtedly scenting the fact that two dragons were in the area. Richard and Paul exchanged glances and laughed, before they moved away to a safer distance, listening as the animal noises finally abated. Their ice creams had been bitten down to the very tips of the cones, and they saw that the man had all but faded away, as crowds of people flocked and jostled around them. 

"Well, he's gone," Paul said, a little disapointed that a fight hadn't ensued, after all.

He wasn't sure why he'd even wanted a fight, yet his dragon's blood had been chorusing madly for it, all the same. He could see, through his soul-bond, that Richard was just as anxious for a fight as he was, and despite his own continuing fractiousness, he sent a soothing wash of burnt orange comfort towards his mate. Richard smiled as he turned his translucent, unusual eyes upon Paul suddenly and winked. 

"Probably too public for him, for whatever it was he wanted to do," Richard suggested, with a shrug.

"Perhaps he wasn't even following us," Paul suggested, seriously. "I mean, this is a public place; it's not against any law to come here. He probably was staring at us because he recognised us from Sanguine or something." 

"Maybe," Richard said, but he sounded only partially convinced. 

Paul shrugged; he wasn't sure whether he believed his own ideas either, yet he could think of nothing better to say to his partner. He popped the last bite of his ice cream cone into his mouth and crunched down with great enjoyment, biting it and demolishing it noisily. Richard smiled, even as he popped the last bite of his own cone into his own mouth, yet his bites were less noisy than Paul's. 

In time, they left the Tiergarten and drove back to Kreuzberg, yet neither dragon perceived the fact that they were being followed; Paul, however, kept an eye upon the rear-view mirror, yet saw nothing out of the ordinary. No cars kept on their tail throughout the drive home and all that followed soon turned off, never to be seen again or repeated. 

Still, neither dragon relaxed properly until they were in their home again, surrounded by the familiarity of their lives, with the door locked firmly between themselves and the outside world. No matter how strong they were, or how many oncomers they could conceivably best in a fight, they still felt safer when they were apart from all else, protected and secure with only themselves to wrap around.


	10. Chapter 10

"Till's in the paper," Flake announced the following day, with an amused smirk curving his lips, as he angled the paper that he'd been reading towards Paul.

"What? What for?" Paul asked, in surprise, as he reached out to pluck the pages from Flake's unresisting fingers.

"It's because of that murder the other other night; you know, the body that he literally almost pissed on outside that gastro-pub," Flake said, gleeful grin soon growing and replacing the amused smirk of before. 

"And he talked to the journalists?" Paul asked, in surprise. "I thought he'd be the last person to want to do that."

Till was naturally suspicious of journalists as much as he, and the rest of them in their small group of friends, disliked the police. 

"He was hoping to get more coverage for his shop, which is why he did it," Flake said, with a sudden chuckle.

"Oh, that sounds more like Till. He doesn't do anything without some kind of prior motive," Paul said, with a chuckle. "It is a clever bit of advertising, admittedly, though." 

"Yes. It is," Flake nodded, proudly. "I was with him when they interviewed him. Don't worry; I made sure to mention Comic World at least a hundred times. We need more custom, too." 

Paul laughed aloud at that, and nodded gratefully at Flake. 

"Probably the only good thing to come out of all of this," Paul said, as he skimmed the text that accompanied the black and white photograph of a typically morose looking Till. 

Despite the printed reproduction of Till's morose expression, Paul could still detect the hint of an amused smile tugging at the corners of the other man's eyes as though Till was perhaps intending to have fun at the newspaper's expense. Still, the article did not mention anything more than Paul knew already, through dint of actually being there at the time. He was glad for the fact that neither he, nor Richard, received much of a mention. Paul, himself, was only mentioned, as Flake had already told him, due to being co-owner of Comic World. Due to his new status in life and the dangers associated with being a dragon-shifter, he wanted to keep as low a profile as possible wthin the realms of the gossip rags and sleazy newspapers. He didn't want to draw undue attention upon himself, or his Alpha, and potentially be put into danger; he didn't know what the authorities would do if, or when, they found out. He was hoping against everything he had, that they wouldn't discover their secret.

"I'm gonna frame that and hang it on my wall at home," Flake announced, with some pride, breaking into Paul's thoughts suddenly. "I mean, it's not often I get in the paper, let alone Till." 

"Yeah, but in connection with a murder? Hardly something to be celebrated, Flake," Paul murmured, as he raised one disbelieving eyebrow. 

"Its exciting, Paul," Flake scoffed at him. "How often do we get mixed up in things like that? For fuck's sake, we sell comic books for a living, in case you'd forgotten." 

"Maybe so, but do you really want to be reminded of dead bodies in alleyways, every time you look at that thing?" Paul asked, as he pointed at the newspaper article with a grimace of disgust.

"I did want to be a doctor at one point, Paul," Flake reminded him, not unkindly. "I would have seen plenty of dead bodies, then. Especially if I worked in a hospital." 

"Morbid thought, but I suppose you're right," Paul conceded, with a soft huff of laughter. "It's still not something I'd like to hang up on my wall, however." 

Flake merely ignored him in the best way that he knew how; he turned away and snipped the article out of the newspaper, carefully, with a pair of scissors, humming tunelessly as he did so. Paul stretched and watched him for a while, until a customer distracted him from Flake's pursuit for a while.

****

The sun was hot and the air dry, and close, as Richard and Paul made their way beneath the stand of trees that they'd long since claimed as theirs, on the outskirts of Berlin. Paul had even dubbed the small wooded area _Dragon Forest_ which had provoked an amused smile from Richard, and a slight long-suffering shake of his head over his lover's antics. 

"This can't last, surely," Paul said, as he nodded up at the sky, bleached almost white in the heat. "I mean, personally, I like the heat, but it does seem rather unnatural, don't you think?" 

"I suppose," Richard replied, with a careless shrug. "Now that you've said that, we'll probably have a week of rain and thunderstorms, then you'll start worrying about building an ark or something." 

"Huh. At least we'll be the sole two dragon representatives on board," Paul smiled. "The animals went in two by two, hoorah." 

That made Richard laugh, a sudden dark burst of noise that made Paul laugh in turn. Richard still was laughing as they undressed, hands reaching out to linger against scraps of skin exposed to the light once Paul had finally shed his clothes; Paul stretched, grinning at the way that Richard watched him, eyes grazing his body as he stretched again, purposefully that time. Paul laughed and leant in, and pressed an amused, warm kiss against Richard's mouth, which surprised the other man.

"What?" Richard asked, as he propped one hand against Paul's hip and stroked the curve of warm skin tenderly. "What's funny?"

"You're staring," Paul murmured, as he snuggled a little closer against his mate's body. 

"No more than you do, at me. Besides, you shouldn't pose, and show yourself off to me," Richard teased, gently. 

"Like you don't pose for my benefit, every chance you get," Paul pointed out, with a sudden laugh. 

"That's different," Richard objected, feigning annoyance that was marred by the grin that still softened his features when he stared at Paul.

"Is not," Paul teased before he reached up to cruelly twist one of Richard's nipples playfully. "Anyway, what happened to you showing me how to belch fire, anyway?" 

"I'm ready. You keep exposing yourself to me and nattering," Richard pointed out. "You never stop talking, do you, Paulchen?" 

Paul only laughed at him, and winked, before he watched as Richard started to shift, every move, evey transformation accompanied by the usual shift and crack of muscles and bones, until there was nothing left of Richard in his human form; Paul's lover was replaced by a proudly beautiful dragon instead. Paul ran his hands over the sides of Richard's neck, fingers lingering against too dry scales, hot beneath his palms. He'd often done that to Richard, stroked his sides and his face and even ran exploratory fingers over his lover's stretched-leather wings and whilst Richard had allowed Paul to touch him, Paul himself suspected that if it was anyone else other than Paul himself doing so, they wouldn't exist for very long.

Richard dipped his head down, so that his bright, jewel-like eyes were on a level with Paul's, and Paul cupped his hands against the dragon's cheeks, thumbs describing patterns against the heated scales there. Richard offered a contented rumble in return, a great purring growl that resonated in his greater chest capacity, and his eyes slid closed as he rested his chin against Paul's naked shoudler briefly. His head was heavy, and hot and Paul dared to press a kiss against Richard's scaled cheek. A grumbling purr that was nearly a laugh rumbled in Richard's chest and throat at that and Paul repeated the gesture swiftly, marvelling at how unlike a snake's skin the dragon's scales actually were. Instead, they were a little stiffer than a snake's supple body, and were much larger, and flatter, and when one drew close enough, there could be seen an irridescent sheen upon them, visible only in certain lights if Richard stood or lay in a certain way.

Richard's head swung away and he gently nudged at Paul's exposed, soft abdomen impatiently, with a burst of midnight blue impatience transmitted over their link; while he hadn't pushed him hard, purposefully, his nudge was still enough to make Paul stagger back, laughing, a few steps, hands resting against the end of Richard's muzzle. 

"Okay, sweetness, I'm changing," Paul said, as he stepped still further away. 

Richard blew out a stream of heated air from his nostrils, thankfully not filled with flames, as though he was sighing in relief. Paul grinned, yet that grin did not last long however; instead, it was replaced by a frown of concentration, before Paul's forehead smoothed out into ridged scales, as his body shifted into his other form. He was glad that each shift was coming easier now, swifter, so that he almost was as fast at changing as Richard was. 

Richard stepped in and nuzzled his scaled muzzle alongside Paul's own, in a clear and affectionate dragon-kiss and Paul returned it with a contented rumbling purr. He watched as Richard backed up a few paces, before the other shifter launched himself into the air, great wings cracking against the air as his body rose skywards. Paul was quick to join him, eager to float through the skies and to feel free on the wings of flight. They chased each for a while, bodies twirling and twining through the sun-hot air, until Richard peeled away, great gouts of flame suddenly jetting from his mouth. 

Paul watched him, and closely observed how the other drgaon could puff out small jets from his nostrils or pour almost liquid fire from between his jaws. Paul belched out great gouts of steaming fire in excitement, as he twisted and turned in mid-air. Whilst the jets were wild and imperfect, and not the purposeful streams that Richard jetted from nose and mouth alike, Paul was emitting fire and the jets were perfect in their imperfection and they were exclusively Paul's. Paul bugled in exultation and tried again, concentrating on keeping the streams of flames in one gouting jet. After a few attempts, he started to get the hang of it, and he heard a pleased rumble emanating from Richard's chest at his success, and the soft beginnings of scarelt pride rumbling through tehir link. Paul still kept practicing, until Richard darted in between flames, to butt his head gently against Paul's side, his signal to Paul that they should return home whilst in mid-flight.

Paul descended, happily, feet hitting the ground solidly as he did so, and he already was halfway back into his change when Richard landed nearby with a hefty thump of heavy dragon body against sun-burnt grass. Paul felt the vibrations of impact rumbling through the sensitive soles of his feet, creating tickles and a rill of low excited arousal to tug at his abdomen. Paul was glad that they hadn't used the grass, or the trees as target practice, merely directing their flames high into the sky; any hint of fire would have caused the whole stand of trees to start burning, causing devastation everywhere. Paul knew that whilst ordinarily one spark would have created enough damage, the trees, the grass, the very ground was like a tinderbox, baked dry by the constant heat and lack of rain. 

Paul began tugging on his clothing, as Richard began to change, soon padding over to Paul's side to tug on his own clothing. Richard was grinning as he glanced over at Paul, eyes shining with wonder, and with undisguised pride; Paul didn't need to ask whether he'd done well, as his answer was there to see over Richard's face, and the way that his mate's pride shone scarlet behind Paul's eyes. 

"That was fantastic," Richard enthused, with obvious pride and excitement. "I never really appreciated just how beautiful a dragon can look until today. You looked hot, if you'll forgive the pun." 

Paul merely laughed and leant in to steal a grateful kiss from Richard 's mouth.

"Thanks for taking me out to try this," he said, as he propped his hands upon Richard's hips and stared at his lover at close range . 

"That's okay. It was about time you did, anyway," Richard said, with an easy, fluid shrug and Paul had the sudden sense of wings flapping behind Richard, even though those wings were long since folded away into his lover's body. "You did good, Paul." 

"Thanks," Paul repeated, proudly. "I'm really thirsty, though, now, I must tell you that." 

Richard tilted his head back and laughed loudly, eyes closed with the force of his chuckles. Paul merely grinned at him and pulled his t shirt back on over his head, cutting off his view momentarily of Richard, although he still could hear him. He still was grinning by the time the soft cotton of the shirt had eased over his face, and Richard had resorted to grinning back at him instead of laughing. 

"We should go for a drink," Richard suggested. "I could do with wetting my whistle, as well, actually. Sanguine?" 

"Sanguine," Paul nodded, before he suddenly laughed. "You do realise that Sanguine has just become our regular, now, don't you?" 

Richard nodded, then shrugged, as though he didn't much care. Paul supposed that he didn't either, for he liked Sanguine and its comfortable atmosphere and mostly friendly faces.

"Everyone's gotta have somewhere to meet up and drink or eat. Why not Sanguine? I like it there," Richard said, unwittingly observing the same train of thought that Paul had.

"So do I," Paul nodded, seriously. "I suppose that it does help that I know one of the waitrons, too." 

"What the fuck is a waitron, now?" Richard asked, with a baffled laugh, and a frown that sent cute creases between his brows.

"Neutral term for waiter or waitress, numb-nuts," Paul laughed. 

Richard merely reached out to flick harshly at Paul's clothed left nipple as response, and Paul clutched at his chest with a sharp cry of mock hurt anger. Richard reached out then to stroke Paul's chest, with a grin, before he leant in to press a kiss against Paul's waiting mouth.

"You just wanted a chance to grope me," Paul stated, once the kiss had ended.

"Is that so? Well, if I wanted to grope you, I'd touch you here," Richard said, as he angled his hand between Paul's legs and pressed his fingers against Paul's groin. 

"Carry on like that and we won't make it to Sanguine," Paul teased, with an arch lift of his eyebrow.

Richard merely laughed and rubbed at Paul's clothed cock a few times, before he stepped away, reluctantly. Paul whined a little, and mourned the loss of Richard's hand against the beginnings of his erection.

"Play-time's for afterwards," Richard said, with a wink.

"I'll hold you to that," Paul said. "Although I don't think I can wait that long." 

"You will, and I'd rather you held yourself to me, instead," Richard said, with an open leer at Paul.

Paul's only response was to laugh and to trail after Richard as the other dragon-shifter led the way back to the car again.


	11. Chapter 11

" - and you know how many shifters we get in here on a daily basis, don't you"?" one of the waitresses was saying to Olli, as Paul and Richard made their way into Sanguine forty minutes later. "We need to keep this place as safe and as sheltered as possible for all who come here. I really don't like this shit with the murders; our people are being targeted." 

"I know, but - "Olli started to say, before his eyes caught sight of Paul and Richard and he broke off his gentle diatribe with a swiftly mustered grin at them. "Hi, guys. Your usual, is it?" 

"Yeah," Paul replied, in confusion. "You couldn't knock us up a toasted cheese sandwich each, as well, could you? What's this about shifters and Sanguine, anyway?" 

The waitress looked uncomfortable and almost painfully guilty, as though she'd been caught out in a lie or had inadvertently revealed too much; she scurried away without saying a word or even properly looking at Paul or Richard, cheeks blazing with frustrated embarrassment. Paul could feel the lavender wash of Richard's confusion through their link, a confusion that matched Paul's own. Olli sighed and shook his head at them, before he pressed one outstretched index finger against his lips briefly.

"Later," he said, quietly. "I have a break in ten minutes. And I'm sure the sandwiches can be arranged. I know you haven't booked a table, but Kris, my boss, said it'd be all right if you didn't. You're one of us, so you don't need to do mundane things like that, anymore. So, the same table you had before, is it?" 

"Yeah," Richard confirmed, that time and he looked as confused as Paul felt then when Paul glanced in his direction.

They made their way back to their usual table without Olli's assistance, feeling a little more at home in the gastropub than they had on visits in the past. A few of the other patrons nodded at them, obviously also regulars there, judging by their familiar faces. Paul and Richard nodded back politely; Paul even saw the man with the cat eyes and the straggly beard there that he'd seen before, in the rest-room. He, too, nodded and grinned at them. 

Ten minutes passed with Richard and Paul nursing the beers and the toasted sandwiches that Olli had brought to their table, before Olli himself pulled up a chair to join them, sitting down with a groan as though his feet ached. 

"Much as I love working here, it really hurts your back and your feet standing up for hours on end," he groaned, as he relaxed as best as he could in the hard backed chair. "I wish I had the constitution of some of our regulars. I must be getting too old for this."

"Don't be stupid, Olli. You're younger than me," Paul scoffed. "And Richard." 

Olli merely harrumphed and didn't say a word. Paul huffed, even as Richard stared at Olli curiously from over the neck of the bottle angled to his lips, a stream of Paulaner flowing into his mouth. Richard swallowed audibly, before he asked the inevitable. 

"What was that thing you were gonna tell us, anyway, that you were talking about with the waitress? It sounded mysterious. In fact, it's not the first time you've said something mysterious. You've mentioned before about Sanguine being a safe haven," he said, as he scrutinised Olli closely.

Olli sighed and leant back in his chair, far enough so that the wooden frame creaked in protest at the transferrence of weight. He wiped one hand over his face, and when he glanced back at Paul and Richard again, his expression was one of extreme weariness; he also looked as though he was measuring his words, weighing each one out and tasting them, as though trying to see whether they were the right ones.

"Yeah. You could say that it is. For people like you," Olli said, slowly, musingly.

"Gay men?" Paul hedged, uncertainly.

"To an extent, yes, but that's not quite what I was referring to," Olli conceded slowly. "I actually, meant the other thing." 

"What other thing?" Richard asked, darkly, as he stiffened in his seat and Paul saw Richard's alarm in a bright blue wash behind his eyes. "I don't know what you think you know, Olli ... " 

"I meant the shifter thing," Olli said, as he cast a swift glance around them to check for potential listeners whilst keeping his voice pitched low. "You are both shifters, aren't you?" 

He pointed to his eyes, before he continued.

"Your eyes give you away, for those who know what to look for," he said, with a brief smile.

"And how do you know what to look for?" Paul asked, suspiciously, as he frowned at his friend in confusion. "Since when, more importantly." 

"Since working here, I do," Olli said, not offended by the suspicion that both Richard and Paul displayed. "Kris, the guy who owns Sanguine, is a vampire, believe it or not. Not only that but he's the Master Vampire of the entirety of Berlin. He specifically set this place up as a haven for other supernaturals like him, which is why he's so ready to forego the formalities of table bookings, for fellow supernaturals." 

"Then why are you here?" Paul asked, next. "You are still human, I take it? You don't smell funny, like we do." 

"I do not smell funny, Paulchen," Richard immediately objected. "I do take a shower every day, as you well know. You've joined me often enough." 

Paul laughed at that and patted Richard's knee, soothingly, before he dotted a soothing, apologetic kiss against his lover's mouth, followed by a silver-flecked dragon kiss, which Richard laughingly, tenderly, returned. He was glad to note that Richard even attempted to deepen the physical kiss a little; only the fact that Olli made a sudden embarrased noise made Paul and Richard ease apart and smile, first at one another and then at Olli.

"Don't worry, darling, you smell lovely to me," Paul finally assured his lover. "But you can't wash away the scent of reptile in the shower. You must have noticed that I stink a bit, in turn. I'm under no illusions that I do, so I won't take offence." 

Richard suddenly laughed, and the expression transformed his face, turned it brighter and more relaxed. 

"You do bear the taint of what you are," he conceded, gently. "But that can only ever be attractive to me." 

Paul huffed out a laugh, that was partially amused, and partially complimented. He kissed the end of Richard's nose, before he turned his attentions back to Olli again. 

"Anyway, I think you were trying to tell us something," he said, with a low laugh that rumbled in his chest. "About why you're working here if you're human." 

"Yeah, well, Kris, the boss, wants to have as diverse a staff as he can," Olli said, with a smile. "Which is why I'm here. I'm not the only human, either. There's a few scattered about the place, both working here and visiting. The supernaturals out-number us about four to one, though. You see Travis over there? He's a shifter." 

He pointed to the cat-eyed man with the straggly beard, who seemed to be demolishing a large plate of tuna with great relish. 

"He's a were-panther, to be specific," Olli continued. "And a few of the waitresses are also shifters of some kind or another. The chef's a werewolf, for crying out loud. My question is, for you, is what kind of supernatural, are you? Nothing I've seen yet here." 

"And what do we get out of it, if we tell you?" Paul asked, suspiciously, as his body stiffened in reflex.

"I'm not gonna harm you, Paulchen," Olli said, a little annoyed at Paul's sudden display of guarded distrust. "Shit, you've known me for years; you should know better than that. I've already said that this place is a safe haven for people like you. I've even told you what Travis is, and my boss is, when I didn't have to."

He looked as though he was about to say more, yet the words died on his lips when Paul sighed and laid one hand upon his arm in a soothing, warding gesture; a shushing sound passed Paul's lips as he nodded wearily at the flushing Olli.

"Okay," Paul said, some of his weariness coming out in his tone. 

Despite feeling a little worn-down, he was surprised to hear his friend so vehement; usually Olli was quieter than that and it took a lot for him to string so many words together in one sentence, unless he was angry or particularly upset or affected by something. Olli merely stared at Paul a little defiantly, as though he still was waiting upon an answer; Paul knew that he should give him something, yet not without checking with Richard first. Richard, after all, was Alpha, and therefore stronger than Paul, more dominant in the chain of dragon-hierarchy. 

"Reesh?" Paul asked, as he glanced at his lover.

Richard grunted, and nodded his head sharply once; Paul still could smell the suspicion on his lover's skin as well as see the burgundy of it shifting and coalescing behind his eyes, as though Richard did not want to reveal so much to someone he still barely knew. Olli was more Paul's friend, and as such, barely an acquaintance of Richard's. Whilst Paul wasn't exactly crazy about revealing their secret either, he knew that Olli had a point. 

"We're dragons," he said, finally, quietly. "A mated pair, actually." 

"No shit," Olli breathed, obviously impressed by Paul's revelation. "Real life dragons?" 

"In the scaled flesh," Paul said, and grinned a little tentatively. 

Olli barely seemed to register Paul's quiet confirmation, still too excited about the fact that he was sitting in front of a pair of dragons. 

"Oh, Jesus, this is fantastic," Olli said, broad grin softening his features and making his kind green eyes sparkle. "Dragons. I had no idea you actually could get dragon-shifters, let alone have a mated pair in residence. Well, that's great. You can be Sanguine's good-luck charms. Dragons are lucky, right?"

"To the Chinese, perhaps," Richard murmured, daring a smile at Olli, at last, and his obvious delight over their true identity. 

"Well, the Chinese definitely can't be wrong and I still think you're a lucky charm," Olli said, as he shook his head in continued amazement. 

He stared at them for a few moments, as though expecting them to shift into dragons right in front of him, something which Paul knew that neither he nor Richard would, or could, do, as much for lack of space than anything else. Paul sighed and felt a little uncomfortable beneath Olli's continued scrutiny. 

"So. Sanguine. Are you gonna tell us more about it?" Paul asked, finally, in an attempt to break the suddenly awkward silence between them.

He was glad to note that Olli stopped staring; instead, his fascinated look was replaced by a confused one. 

"Like what?" Olli asked, in confusion.

"Who else frequents it, for a start," Paul offered, uncertain as to what else to say. 

"Well, we have a couple of elves here, a few elemental witches, the vampire, werewolf and were-panther that I've already mentioned; I can't keep track of everything, but if you can think of it, then we've probably got it. Like I said, this is a safe haven for people like you. We don't tell anyone what you are, and you guys have a safe place to eat, drink, be yourselves and relax," Olli said with a smile. "As far as I know, there isn't another place like it in the entirety of Berlin, or nothing yet that I've heard about. If you don't count the S and M club in Mitte." 

Both Richard and Paul exchanged glances; they shared smiles and shrugs, before they both turned slow nods upon Olli. 

"I suppose that is good to know," Paul offered, tentatively. "I mean, about Sanguine, not necessarily the S and M club."

"Oh, I dunno, Paulchen," Richard countered, with the beginnings of a mischievious smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Might be worth a look one night. In the name of science, y'know."

"Science. Right," Paul said, with a rough snort of laughter. "Somehow I don't quite believe that." 

Richard merely laughed, and pressed a warm, nuzzling kiss against Paul's temple. Paul closed his eyes and snuggled into Richard's warmth with a contented sigh, before he turned a smile upon Olli. Olli was watching them, wih an amused, yet still wistful, smile upon his face, a smile that was suddenly shadowed by a darker look creeping into his eyes. 

"I hate to break into your cuteness, but all this talk of shifters and vampires and whatnot has reminded me. I suppose you both heard about the two recent murders," Olli said, as his expression sobered still further. 

"Yeah. My co-worker's partner literally tripped over the body found near here the other night," Paul said. "He was in the paper, even."

"Oh, right, yeah, I saw that. Till, wasn't it? At the the luthier's in Alexa? I didn't realise you knew him. That poor bastard he tripped over was one of our own, or rather one of yours, in a sense. By that, I mean he was a vampire," Olli said, morosely. "Staked and then exsanguinated. The first guy murdered the other day was a were-bat."

"Jesus," Richard said. "I didn't realise they were like us. I thought they were human." 

"It's not something that anyone wants advertised," Olli said, even as he looked up at the call of his name from the direction of the bar. "Sorry, guys, for cutting this short, but I gotta go back to work. Break's over." 

"Okay," Paul nodded. "Catch up with you later."

"Will do," Olli said, as he stood and clapped Paul upon the shoulder. "Nice meeting you again, Richard." 

"Yeah, you, too," Richard said, and turned a smile upon Paul, even as Olli meandered away. "I think Olli seems nice. "

"Yeah, he is, isn't he? He's the proverbial gentle giant," Paul said, with an affectionate smile at Olli's retreating back.

"Did you two ever - " Richard broke off his own sentence and gestured between Olli and Paul.

"What? Hook up? No," Paul said, with a sudden hoot of laughter. "I don't think we're each other's type, somehow. It's definitely better to be friends, I think, in our case."

"Ah," Richard said, and he looked somewhat relieved by Paul's news. "I suppose that's good to know." 

"I think someone's suffering from a case of the green eyed monster," Paul said, as he leant in to nudge Richard's shoulder with his own. "Reesh." 

"Am not," Richard objected, seemingly reflexively.

Paul narrowed his eyes at him, in a playful glare, and Richard's gaze dipped down to the table immediately. He laughed and scrubbed one large hand against the back of his neck, as his gaze flickered up to meet Paul's again, a bright wash of red embarrassment leaching behind Paul's eyes from Richard's side of the link. 

"Okay. Maybe I am, just a little bit," he amended, sheepishly. "I just want you all for myself." 

"And so you have," Paul said, as he snorted roughly in disbelief, before a sudden change in weather distracted him from his conversation with his partner. 

Outside, the heat finally broke in a sudden, scattergun applause of noisy rain, fat heavy droplets hitting against the glass windows in a sudden clap of noise. Thunder growled through the air, seeming to reverberate against the windows, and the very walls of Sanguine itself.

And that was when the lights went out.


	12. Chapter 12

An utter stillness seemed to hold Sanguine in its sway after the lights had flicked off, atmosphere surprised and thick with expectancy, as though every patron, every employee, was waiting, listening, on guard. Then sudden smatterings of laughter and even a few cat-calls and rude sounding whoops filled the air, and chatter soon filled the gaps between the sudden noises. Paul was glad for the fact that his dragon senses afforded him acute night vision, that he could see as well as in darkness as he could in full daylight. He could see Richard nearby, as still and as silent as he, and just as watchful; he could see Richard's confusion as a lavender wash behind his eyes. Paul turned his attentions back to the main part of Sanguine and could see others moving confidently around, as equally uninhibited by the lack of light as he felt himself, and were undoubtedly the other supernatural beings. Some of the patrons were a little more clumsy, feeling and groping around quite blindly, unwittingly dentifying themselves as humans. 

"What the hell's going on?" Paul murmured, more for something to say than because he really expected an answer.

"The storm must have tripped the electrics," Richard murmured back, despite this.

"Maybe," Paul agreed, with a nod that he knew that Richard would see. 

He sighed and turned just as a sudden loud screaming yowl came from near the kitchens, mere seconds before Paul caught the scent of smoke and the distinctive hot aroma of flames licking nearby. He vaulted out of his seat, Richard at his side, even as the first warning yells of - **_FIRE_** \- ratcheted through the darkened spaces of Sanguine; Paul saw the mad rush to get away from the kitchen, and he couldn't help but think of the bakery that had gone up in flames a few days before. Oddly he couldn't stop thinking about it, couldn't shake the feeling that somehow the two fires were connected, and then his mind went back still further in time to the fire that had erupted in a bin in their apartment building.

Then the crush and the fright and the fear stilled Paul's racing thoughts and all he could concentrate on was trying to get out, to save everyone else from burning to death. Apparently Richard had the same idea, for the other dragon-shifter was ushering people towards the door and commanding them to calm down so that everyone reached safety without being crushed or hurt in the process. Paul joined in, keeping himself as a shield between the more susceptible Sanguine patrons and the fire. While he still could get burned and severely hurt, the flames wouldn't harm him as much as they would a human; he'd heal in quicker time, and he had a better chance of surviving it too. Paul had broken enough bones in the last few weeks to know how long it would take for his new body to heal. 

Richard's shoulder jostled against his every so often, and provided a comforting weight against him; he shimmied away finally when they attained the air of outside, and both men were wet within seconds beneath the absolute deluge that still poured from the skies. Paul noticed that the patrons of Sanguine had started to form in small clumps; odd groupings of humans on one part of the pavement and supernaturals together on another. He could determine the different scents, and the shape and consistency of eyes and ears and sometimes canines, to determine just who was who between humans and non-humans. It almost felt as though it was a who's who of Berlin society, a crude, visual representation of birds of a feather flocking together, even if they didn't realise it at first. Even so, the supernaturals out-numbered the humans at least three to one.

In the rush and confusion and the driving rain, Paul soon lost track of Richard, only realising he was gone when he missed his lover's warmth at his side, and the fading ebb of the colourful bond he shared with Richard. A sudden inexplicable spike of fear lanced through Paul's body, cold and unwelcome and his inner dragon reared and roared and searched for its mate.

"Richard," he yelled over the combined sound of the rain and the flames that had started to take a hold on Sanguine. "Reesh." 

He pushed in amongst the press of bodies, trying to find his mate, tried to sight him, to scent him, tried to reach him him thrugh their soul-bond with increasingly frightened jabs and he couldn't locate him at first; finally, Paul glimpsed the sight of a familiarly clad pair of legs being dragged down a nearby alleyway. Paul gave chase immediately, pushing through the crowds again and barely hesitating to apologise to those he'd inadvertantly barged into and trodden on, before he plunged between the buildings, in time to see his lover bundled into the boot of a car. Paul yelled suddenly, and heard the sudden rumblings of his dragon underlaying his agonised screams; he felt as though suddenly his world had been ripped away from him and without thinking, he shifted, and took to the air behind the car, that had already started speeding away. He tried to keep out of view as much as he could and still follow the car though Berlin streets; he didn't know how successful he was, yet at that moment in time, he didn't much care. All he cared about, all he wanted, was Richard and ensuring the safe return of his mate was all that mattered to him, right then. 

Again and again, he tried to gain some kind of response, or reassurance from his lover, yet his bond was now completely and scarily blank; Pual could only assume that this meant that Richard had been rendered unconscious. Richard was never completely silent, even when he wasn't willingly transmitting to Paul; every mood-shift and change in situation invoked a new colour, a new sensation in their bond and Paul knew that he, in turn, did the same. Richard must see similar things as Paul himself did. 

Paul ascended higher, and used the buildings as extra cover against prying eyes; he flitted from the tops of each building, whilst still keeping an eye on the car below. He could feel the weight of the rain hammering against his scales and his outstretched wings, threatening to roll into his eyes and blind him. He blinked as best as he could and landed atop another one of the buildings, staring down below as the car became snarled in traffic. Paul watched and waited, curled up on the roof to avoid a sizzling bolt of lightning that arched too close to his self-imposed hide-out. He could feel the electric heat of it jarring close to his scales and he turned his head away sharply to shield his sensitive eyes from being blinded. He waited until he was certain that the danger was over for a while, before he chanced a look down at the street below and saw that the car was now gone.


	13. Chapter 13

Richard lay alone in the boot of the car, feeling the wheels turn and slosh through puddles and across tarmac alike. He could hear the beating of the rain pounding against the metal body as the vehicle slowed. He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious, merely that he'd been so for a while; he considered changing, unleashing his dragon self, yet he had no time nor the space to do so. Within moments of stopping, he found himself hauled from the boot, cruel hands grappling and grasping at his body, and taking little care of the handling of him. Richard lashed out as best as he could despite his bonds, yelling loudly, which soon turned into roars, as his voice deepened, body beginning to cycle through familiar changes; what seemed to him like a sudden bolt of lightning hit against his head and he was back in human form again, dazed, confused, and more than a little groggy. 

Richard swore and shook his head, in an attempt to try and regain his senses, yet he found that he still remained a little befuddled, for longer than he should have done. He cursed again and winced at the bright rills of pain that lanced through his head, which seemed to send spears of agony through his entire body with every movement. He was dumped unceremoniously upon the floor and he lay still, attempting to regain some of his composure. All around him, Richard could smell the scents peculiar to a car garage; heavy aromas of engine oil and grease, and that odd burnt-ozone tang of something having been welded in the not too distant past. He lifted his head and saw that he was surrounded by piles of junk, old engines in various stages of being stripped and re-tuned and an obviously mint condition Buick parked nearby. He tried to move his legs, yet found that his senses were still too fuddled to do anything more than roll around a little. 

"Fuck," he murmured, wondering, as he did so, where he was, and where Paul would be in relation to him.

Richard wondered even if Paul had realised he was missing yet, and whether the other dragon would even know how to find him, if he had. He then reminded himself that Paul woud have known almost as soon as Richard had been taken; they were too closely bonded for the Beta not to know. Richard then tried to transmit randomly colourful pulses of light over their bond, hoping with everything in his body that Paul would pick up on the pulses and follow them. After a few moments of trying, he had to rest, concentration forcing a headache to blossom behind his eyes; Richard knew that he couldn't rest for long, as he had to try and signal his lover. Despite the fact that he knew he could take on all-comers with his new and improved dragon-strength, he also knew the advantage of having a back-up plan in place, and Paul would be the most perfect, dragon-shaped back-up plan he ever could wish for. He tried sending a few more pulses of light and even thought he felt a little of Paul's fear and alarm transmitting itself through their bond. 

"Jesus," he said, as he rested his aching forehead against the oil soaked floor, eyes tracking over rainbow pools of it sliding in slick stains over the concrete. 

"Sleeping Beauty's awake," a harsh voice said nearby as a face hoved into view, heavily scarred and almost horrifying in its ugliness.

One thick weal, long since healed, pulled the man's eye closed on the left side, while his mouth twisted down in a permanent half-grimace. His right eye was blinking rapidly in either anger, fear, or excitement; Richard wasn't entirely sure which and he didn't care. He tried scenting at the man, knowing instinctively that he wasn't human, yet he couldn't determine what the man actually was. The stranger smelt like nothing Richard had ever scented before, yet Richard knew that that wasn't much to go on; he hadn't had much experience with other supernaturals, only dragons like himself, such as the men who'd changed him, and Paul, and the indeterminate myriad scents of those that frequented Sanguine, even though he hadn't quite familiarised himself with which species they all were yet. 

"What d'you want from me?" Richard asked, hoarsely, finding that his throat was dry, so that his voice cracked and broke embarrassingly upon each word that he spoke.

"I want nothing from you. I just expect you to die," the man replied, almost kindly.

Richard groaned, and rested his head against the concrete again, wondering when he'd stepped into a bad rendition of a James Bond film. Sudden crazy images of Paul bursting in, driving an Aston Martin DB5, firing rockets and tear gas grenades suddenly floated through his mind and it was all he could do to choke back the sudden, resultant laughter that that image invoked; he knew that that was something that Paul was likely to do, if the Beta could get his excited, nerdy little hands on a DB5, that was. The man saw that Richard was trying not to laugh, despite the Alpha's best efforts and the boot that suddenly connected with Richard's head robbed him of speech, as well as sudden ill-timed mirth. Richard lay mostly senseless for a while, drifting in and out of intermittent consciousness, until finally, finally, he felt consciousness returning. He heard voices nearby; the scarred man wastalking to someone else that Richard couldn't see, murmuring quietly about powerful Alpha fire-breathers, about New York and how their employer would be pleased. 

Then he heard the second man saying - "What happens when our New York connection finds out that we're planning on betraying him?" 

"We'll worry about that when he finds out," the first, scarred man said, roughly. "By that time, it'll be too late, anyway, or it will be too late for him, at least. All he needs to know for the time being is that we've found the Alpha that he wanted. That's what we're being paid for, isn't it? He doesn't need to know the rest of it, not yet. We get in contact with him, get paid for our work, and then we worry about the future. "

The voices descended into quiet murmurs again, and Richard strained to hear something of all that the men were saying; he caught snippets about elemental magic, and some kind of ritual almost being completed, that water's blood would be the last that would complete the spell and to ensure their eventual success. Richard could smell spent ozone in the air again, as though lightning had arced down from the sky to sizzle its way through the garage. 

He opened his eyes and saw the man coming his way again; he studiously closed his eyes again, before he cracked them open a little to check on the man's progress. He opened his eyes fully again when he saw the impossible ball of energy flowing around the man's hands, cracking and sparking like a miniature storm flowing and ebbing across his palms and his fingers. He could smell the expenditure of magic flowing through the air, before that magic arced out and struck Richard on the temple. He screamed, loud cries turning louder still and transforming into dragon's roars, when the pain hit and he felt as though every drop of blood in his body was surging up and into the point where the magic crackled against his skin.


	14. Chapter 14

Paul heard Richard's screams from a block away and veered towards the noise, anger boiling through his veins when he heard the pain, the anger, the sheer lost anguish in his lover's voice; he almost faltered whilst flying when he started to share Richard's pain, bright flashing red bolts lancing through his body over the soul-bond he shared with his mate. He grunted, stifled a roar of anguished pain and almost fell from the sky, before he stiffened his wings and continued his flight resolutely; his mission to save Richard had just been strengthened. He crashed through the front door of the garage where Richard's cries and pain-filled distress emanated from and took in the scene in a glance. He saw two men, one standing with an empty plastic vat nearby that looked vaguely familiar and another larger, uglier man, sending bolts of energy into Richard's body. Paul didn't have time to wonder at it, at the power and the magic that liberally flowed from Richard's assailant's hands; instead, he roared again and leapt forward, mouth snapping around the energy-wielding man's head and ripping it clean from his body. 

Paul barely registered the sounds the body made as it collapsed to the floor, as he was too busy tilting his head back to swallow the man's head with a great gulp. He heard scurrying nearby and his tail lashed out on impulse; the spiked end of his tail speared through the other man's chest, and pinned him to the wall. He felt the last of life jerking out of the pinned man's body before Paul pulled his tail free from the man with a jarring jerk and a roar, before he let him collapse, dead, to the floor. His eyes, his attention, his entire being were all for Richard, collapsed, yet still breathing and barely conscious upon the ground.

Paul shifted into his human form and knelt naked beside his lover, hands checking Richard over for injury, yet he could find nothing; relief flooded Paul's body and he sagged beneath the weight of it. He checked over their link and whilst there still was some residual pain, Richard was okay. Richard stirred beneath his careful ministrations, mouth twitching into a smile when he saw Paul leaning naked and worried over him. 

"Did I just wake up in my own personal heaven, or something?" Richard asked, as he coughed out his words and his breath on the end of a pain filled sigh.

Despite his obvious discomfort, he leered at Paul, one hand rising to grope blindly at Paul's thigh. Paul smiled, despite himself, and despite the fact that he thought it wasn't the time for jokes or frivolity and he said as much to Richard, who merely nodded his acceptance, without taking his hand from Paul's thigh. Instead, his fingers relaxed against Paul, one thumb rubbing gently, tenderly against his mate. 

"Are you all right?" Paul asked, concern and worry flooding his voice, his stance, his very expression as he checked Richard's body once again for damage. 

His eyes didn't pick up on anything untoward on his lover's body, and he couldn't detect anything over their link, either, barring fading pain and a growing headache. 

"I feel like I've been hit by a truck, but I'll live," Richard murmured, as he rested his head upon the floor and closed his eyes briefly. "I just wanna go home, actually."

"We will, but I need to find you some clothes first. I'm not taking you out in Berlin whilst we're both not wearing anything. And I have to destroy the evidence," Paul said, as he cast a worried glance over his shoulder at the bodies that still lay scattered in pieces upon the floor behind him.

"How the hell are you - " Richard began to ask, but his words were drowned out by the sound of Paul shifting into his dragon form once more, crackings of bones and realigning muscles coupled with odd grunts of concentration and pain flowing through the air around Paul.

Two swift bites later and the men were all but consumed, and Richard laid back against the oil soaked asphalt, weakly laughing.

****

The ride home was uneventful, and surprisingly rain free; it seemed as though the worst of the weather had dissipated with the death of the energy wielding maniac. Paul had found a pair of mechanic's overalls in the garage and pulled them on; whilst they'd proved to be quite large on him, he knew that he'd had little choice in the matter and that they would have to do. The overalls he'd found for Richard fitted the larger dragon a little better, and were even a little snug through the chest and across the shoulders. Paul managed to hotwire the Buick into rumbling, purring life, and helped the stiff and aching Richard into it before he began their drive home.

Richard had recovered a little by the time that they pulled up outside their block of flats. Paul helped Richard out still and walked with him, until they reached their flat; once again, Paul was grateful for the fact that they lived upon the ground floor and wouldn't have to risk garnering unwanted attention from their neighbours on the long climb to the appropriate floor. Once safely inside their flat, Paul settled Richard in bed whilst he made a phone call to Till. 

"What was that about?" Richard asked, when Paul returned to his side, to sit on the edge of the bed and to stare down at Richard, with worried, wounded eyes.

"I asked Till to get rid of the car," Paul replied, softly, as he pointed outside towards the Buick. "It won't do to have the cops trace it here, after all. I know it seems a shame, as it's such a nice car, but we can't keep it. Besides, it does kind of stand out. How many American cars are usually in this neighbourhood? I mean, really?"

Richard nodded out his agreement, and laughed gently, as he laid one hand upon Paul's thigh, fingers soon tracing gentle patterns against the smaller dragon's leg.

"What's Till gonna do with the car, anyway?" Richard asked, with mingled surprise and curiosity. 

"Take it out somewhere and set alight to it probably," Paul said, with a shrug and a small, huffing laugh. "It's what he usually does. I think somewhere in that mind of his, is a hidden pyromaniac." 

"Don't tell me he's done this before?" Richard asked, with a laugh. "I don't envy your friends." 

"We grew up in East Berlin, Reesh. Sometimes, you just have to blow up a car or two," Paul said, with a laughing shrug as though that meant everything and he supposed that it did. "Like I said, that's Till's forte, not mine. I really do think he enjoys it."

"We've all gotta get our kicks somehow, I suppose. How's he getting home, anyway?" Richard murmured, as he shifted onto his side with a sigh. "Assuming he's going to be driving that Buick to wherever he's going to blow the thing up." 

Paul rested one hand upon his lover's back to ensure that he wasn't going to hurt himself still further, before he answered.

"Flake will get him home; don't worry. I think I heard Till asking him to follow in their own car before he hung up," he said. "Flake might not be the world's best driver, but he gets about. Talk about Captain Slow."

Paul smiled, at the memories of Flake's over cautious driving skills. Richard laughed at that, and his mirth ended on a hoarse cough. Paul looked down upon Richard, feeling his lover's discomfort in muted drab green behind his eyes and he soothed his fingers against Richard's back. 

"Can I have a drink, d'you think?" Richard asked, as Paul continued to soothe his back with one warm and stroking hand.

"Hmm," Paul agreed, before he got up and padded from the room.

Richard was half sitting up when Paul returned, carrying two bottles of beer, and two plates filled with generously large, thick slices of sticky chocolate fudge cake. Richard's face broke into a grin when he saw the cake and he wolfed it down before he even thought about touching the requested beer. Paul laughed quietly to himself, as he ate his portion of cake a little more slowly.

"It's a wonder you can even eat a thing after what you've just eaten," Richard said, referring to the incident in the garage. "You're a man-eater, quite literally." 

"Hush thy mouth, Reesh; I did what I had to," Paul said, with a grimace. "They did leave a bit of a sour taste in the mouth, though, I have to admit." 

Richard suddenly laughed, a deep and rolling sound that seemed almost touchable in the dimness of their bedroom. Paul merely smiled at him, and popped another bite of cake into his mouth with a sigh of satisfaction.

"Fucking hell," Richard murmured, before he pulled at the neck of the bottle with his mouth. 

Silence reigned between them then, a silence that was finally broken by Richard. 

"I've never seen you so angry before, in all the time I've known you," he murmured, but he sounded impressed, rather than reproachful, angry or judgemental. 

"They took you from me," Paul stated, simply. "They shouldn't have done that. You're mine and I wanted you back."

Richard smiled and reached out for Paul, and eased him closer to press kisses against his mouth. Paul returned the kisses, easily, eagerly, and pushed a soothing wash of dragon love across their link; he felt Richard's own golden-coloured wash responding and meeting his, gentle and tender and genuine. Paul smiled into their kiss, yet pulled away when Richard pressed one hand against Paul's burgeoning erection.

"No, Reesh, not tonight. Heal first, darling," he murmured, more worried for Richard's health and continued safety than relieving the pressure of his erection.

Suprisingly, Richard nodded and his hand fell away, albeit reluctantly.

"Snuggle with me, please, Paulchen," he said, as he reached for Paul again, imploringly.

Paul nodded, and after they'd changed into their pyjamas, he held Richard close, feeling the heat from his lover's body seep into his own; he pressed kisses against Richard's temples and cheeks, and felt his lover relax against him, contented sighs rumbling in Richard's chest as he snuggled closer. 

"What did they want with you, anyway?" Paul asked, his voice barely above a murmur and vibrating in tickling sussurations against Richard's forehead. 

"Hmm?" Richard asked, sleepily, disturbed from a brief doze by Paul's question. 

Paul repeated his question, patiently, before he added - "The men who took you, I mean." 

"I heard snippets of their conversation, but I can't say that it made a lot of sense," Richard admitted, with a sigh. "They were saying something about elemental magic and rituals and something about water's blood. I also heard them saying something about betraying their master in New York."

"New York?" Paul asked, in sudden alarm, as he thought of all the things that Richard had endured whilst in that great, American city.

New York had not been so great for Richard, in the end, Paul knew. 

"You don't think it could be connected to what happened to you there, do you?" Paul continued. "You did kill the Alpha of the New York Shifters, after all. It could be a revenge thing."

"I only killed him to save you, Paul," Richard snorted, not unkindly. "And it could be a possibility. They probably hired some kind of contract killer to get to me for all that I did. I mean, I did run out on them, as well, don't forget." 

"You didn't have a choice, though, did you?" Paul asked, as he pressed a gentle kiss against Richard's temple. "They were trying to get you to start a war with humans. Who the hell in their right mind is gonna want to do that? I mean, seriously? They're obviously mad enough to try that, so they're obviously mad enough to hire magic wielding assassins to get to you. It's a bit of a long shot, I know, but I don't know what else any of this could signify." 

"Exactly," Richard said, with a shrug and a sigh that Paul felt behind his eyes as a stab of grey irritation. "Why couldn't they have come to get me themselves?"

"I dunno," Paul said, with a shrug. "Perhaps they thought the guys who they hired would be enough." 

"Obviously not," Richard said, with a snort. "It's gonna take more than a couple of witches, or whatever they were, to take down a bloody Alpha dragon, especially one who's supposed to be the strongest one in years, if what they once told me is true." 

"And you're forgetting me," Paul reminded him, defiantly. "They obviously didn't bank on you having a mate willing to fight for you. That's a new development, for a start." 

Richard's amusement punched through their link suddenly and he pecked a grateful kiss against Paul's mouth. 

"Yes, they certainly didn't account for you, my lovely dragonet," he said, affection replacing his amusement. 

Paul smiled suddenly, eyes closing as he felt the warm golden resurgance of Richard's love through their link. Paul sighed, frustration growing within him and transmitting itself through their link to Richard.

"I wish I knew what all this meant," Paul murmured, when he felt Richard's sudden silent questioning flare over their bond. "Everything's gone crazy lately. Bloody elemental magic and water's blood, not to mention fires breaking out over Berlin and those murders, as well." 

"I'd almost forgotten about all of that," Richard admitted softly. "For all we know, they might all be connected." 

"I wish we could find out for certain," Paul said, frustration mounting within him. "The two guys we could have asked are no longer with us." 

"Well, we could always ask Olli about it, see if he knows something," Richard suggested. "He seems to be a surprising fount of information about supernatural beings, what with working in Sanguine and everything. He did mention something about witches, before, if you remember." 

"Hmm," Paul murmured, and he lay in silence for a while, before a thought occured to him. "Speaking of Sanguine, you do know that the guy I stabbed through the chest was that guy, who tried hitting on me the other night?" 

"Was he? I only saw the face of that ugly guy, with the scars, never the other one," Richard said. "I can't even say that I recognise them from New York, either, but that doesn't really mean anything. I never saw the faces of all of them, as there was at least twenty dragons in their flight. Anyway. Whatever. Perhaps there is some connection between all of this, after all. Wasn't that the night when Till tripped over that body in the alley?" 

"Yeah, it was," Paul said, with a sigh. "Jesus. This is getting ever more confusing. Too many questions and not enough answers." 

"Well, I think really that we need to talk to Olli about this," Richard said, with a stab of frustration that met Paul's own. "We're never gonna work all this shit out between us, if we're all we're doing is only guessing and supposing." 

"Hmm," Paul said, and fell silent, knowing that Richard was right and there was little else that they could do in the meantime.

He remained silent, and still, until he felt Richard slipping slowly into sleep, body relaxing and growing heavy against his, breath deepening and evening out. He smiled and pressed one final kiss against Richard's soft and sleepy mouth.

"I love you, Richard," he murmured against his lover's lips.

For one moment, even in the face of impending sleep, it looked as though Richard smiled.


	15. Chapter 15

That night, Richard suffered nightmares again, hands clinging desperately to Paul's body as Paul cradled him, soothing him, kissing and caressing him until the night horrors finally seeped away. Those caresses turned desperate and needy and Paul felt the beginnings of Richard's erection pressing against his thigh; whilst he did not think it wise to do much to overtax Richard's wounded body, he still slipped beneath the sheets, to wrap his fingers around Richard's erection and stroke him into full hardness. 

Paul then slide his mouth over his lover's cock, and pleasured Richard with his mouth and his hands, closing his eyes in pleasure against the familiar feel and taste of his lover against his tongue, as he wrung deep groans from deep within Richard's chest; Paul swallowed around the tip of Richard's cock, and caused a torrent of pleasured curses to tumble from his lover's mouth mere seconds before he released down Paul's throat. Paul swallowed as much as he could, before he licked the remainder away with swift confident sweeps of his tongue; once Richard was as clean as he was ever going to get, Paul wriggled up the bed again, his own erection pressed against Richard's thigh. 

Richard was still too drowsy and hazy from his orgasm to do much, so Paul wrapped his hand around his own cock and began stroking himself, staring intently at his lover's face as he did so. Richard lazily watched him for a while, before he wrapped his hand around Paul's own, fingers slotting perfectly together as they worked together to pleasure the harshly panting Beta. Paul kept his gaze trained upon Richard's face until he climaxed hard against the Alpha's thigh, deep groans of completion rumbling in the night. Richard smiled and leant in, captured Paul's mouth in an open-mouthed, messily wet kiss and Paul returned it, easing onto his back when Richard pushed against him. 

They did little more than kiss for a while, until Richard rolled away, cock hard again, to try and root the lube out from the bedside cabinet; Paul tried to protest that it still was too early for sex, yet Richard merely huffed at him and continued with what he was doing. He found the lube after much cursing and laughing, and turned back into Paul's patient body heat, to prepare his lover for all that was to come. And when their bodies joined finally, Richard proved that he was healed enough to make love to Paul three times, each time rough and needy, filled with grasping hands and biting mouths and desperate cries leaked out into the night.

****

"What the hell was that business about with the car on   
Saturday night, exactly, Paulchen?" Flake asked, when Monday morning dawned in   
Comic World. "Till didn't exactly say why he blew it up, other than the fact   
that you'd asked him to."

The weather was back to normal again, without the oppressive heat that had held sway over Berlin for a couple of weeks. Even the puddles that had formed during Saturday's thunderstorm had receded into smaller puddles, leaving little trace of how ferocious the weather had once been. Paul had been amazed at how much the city had changed, even over the course of a day; Berlin seemed normal again, or as normal as it ever was going to get, in Paul's opinion. 

"Oh, it's just some shit that Richard and I got into at Sanguine," Paul said, before he explained to Flake most of what had happened both at the gastro-pub and directly afterwards. 

He conveniently left out the parts about his draconic transformations and the subsequent deaths of the men. He didn't want to reveal his own part in how they were killed, as he still was far from ready from revealing his biggest secret from his closest friend.

"So, what happened to the men that got Richard?" Flake asked, proving that he was more attuned to what Paul hadn't said than Paul himself would have given him credit for. 

Paul cursed himself for overlooking Flake's astuteness; it was easy to forget sometimes just how smart the other man was and that he shouldn't be taken for a fool. 

"I made they sure they paid for all they did to my partner; let's just say they're permanently incapacitated and won't be ever coming back again," Paul said, shortly, but said little more on the subject even when Flake pressed. 

Eventually, Flake dropped the subject, amidst much dissatisfied grumblings; even he, with his inherent persistence, knew when a line of conversation was a lost cause and so, eventually, left the Beta alone. Paul was glad for the fact that they had deliveries to sort out that day, for it kept both he and Flake busy and by the time that the end of the day rolled near, Flake seemed to have forgotten all that Paul had told him, mind already consumed with returning home to Till. Richard's appearance in the doorway of Comic World soon resurrected Flake's memories, however.

"Sorry to hear about what happened to you on Saturday," Flake said, as he made his way past Richard, towards the front door. 

"Thanks. I had someone looking out for me, thankfully," Richard said, as he cast a fond look over at Paul.

"So I heard," Flake said, with a disgruntled snort that was almost a laugh. "God knows what Paul did to those guys who nabbed you, but I know from experience that he can look after himself. I dread to think what he'd do to protect someone he actually loves." 

"Oh, he has his ways," Richard said, as he cast a wink at Paul. "He can be incredibly frightening when he wants, for such a cute little man."

"Not so much of the little," Paul objected, with a laugh. "I'm big in all the right places, I'll have you know." 

"Now, that's something else I can attest to," Richard said, with a broad grin spreading over his face at Flake's sudden horrified look. 

"You keep that kind of information to yourself. I don't need to know about your love-life," Flake said, his tone as horrified as his expression.

"Who said I was talking about my dick? I never said anything specific. It was all in your mind," Paul said, with a laugh, as Flake's horrified expression grew more pronounced. 

"I never said anything about your - anything on your body, Paul," Flake said, a flush of embarrassment spreading over his cheeks at the thought. "You were the one who started talking about your dick, making me think about it." 

"Whatever you thought of, he's bigger," Richard said, deep laughs suddenly rumbling in his chest as Flake all but dove out of the suddenly open door of the shop. 

Paul laughed, as he followed Flake out into the still crowded expanse of Alexa, and waited long enough for Richard to join him before he locked the store securely. Flake grunted a couple of goodbyes, before he hurried away, with one last horrified glance over his shoulder at the still-laughing Richard. 

"I think we've scarred Flake for life," Richard murmured, as he slid his arms warmly around Paul's waist and gave him a hysical kiss, as well as a love-soaked dragon kiss.

"Don't worry, Reesh; he'll get over it. He's just a prude," Paul laughed,with a shrug as he smoothed one hand in a gentle caress across his lover's back, in the space where Richard's wings would be in his other form. 

Richard laughed at that, even as Paul began to lead the way back to their car, hands joined and fingers linked in an easy grip. 

"What did you tell him, anyway?" Richard asked, and his curiosity was a bright green flicker across their link.

"Nothing much, bar the scant details. I conveniently left out anything to do with transformations, dead attackers and giant winged you-know-whats," Paul said, as a mother pushing a pram walked past. 

Richard's huff of laughter was quiet, yet amused still for its lack of volume. That Paul was still diligently keeping their secrets from humans was obvious and the soft peach of Richard's gratitude was a comforting wash behind Paul's eyes. 

"Are you never going to tell him?" Richard asked, his curiosity strengthening into a near blinding bright green. 

"I don't know; I thought you said not to," Paul said, with an easy shrug as they reached their car, finally. "I suppose I will if I really have to, but I haven't needed to say anything, yet, up until today, that is. Talk about awkward. And I know all of that sounds weird, before you start, Reesh." 

Richard's sudden laughter was warm, and infectious, and the mood was still warm and comfortable, as they made their way through the streets of Berlin, snarled and choked with traffic and hooting, impatient car-horns.

"You might well have to say something in the end," Richard observed, conversation returning once more to Flake. "You never know, he might want to be changed, too. I hope you'll forgive me for saying this, but it seems as though it would be right up Flake's street, being a dragon." 

"Well, you'd be right," Paul laughed. "And I probably will tell him, when the time is right. We'll cross that bridge when we get to it, as they say. We're nearly at Sanguine, anyway. Just to change the subject, drastically, you know."

Richard's laughter was warm, but he subsided into silence once more.


	16. Chapter 16

Richard and Paul made their way to Sanguine before they returned home, and found that whilst the gastro-pub was far from being open due to the fire that had ravaged its way through its walls two days before, the damage from the flames was surprisingly minimal. Even so, when they peeped through the doorway, the windows and the walls inside were smoke blackened; several surfaces still had a covering of soot and grime upon them, whilst more than a few tables and chairs were badly charred and broken. Despite the remnants of the damage, they could see that surprising progress had been made, that the damge was not quite as bad as they would have expected it to be. Olli joined them, as soon as he was aware that they were outside, lingering upon the pavement and giving the gastro-pub curious glances. Olli's smile was typically shy, yet still friendly and warm, as he gestured towards the still slightly smoke-darkened interior. 

"How's things going?" Richard asked, with a smile. "All right?"

"Not bad. Things could be worse, here, I suppose. I'm helping to redecorate. Luckily, we have a few elemental witches as patrons," Olli said. "Their magic certainly helped to speed up the process of cleaning up the damage. What?" 

This last question was asked when Olli caught sight of Paul and Richard's suddenly surprised and stricken expressions. 

"We were actually planning on asking you about that. What is an elemental witch, exactly?" Paul asked, carefully, when Richard didn't immediately speak.

"It's a good witch, who uses the earth to bolster their natural magic," Olli explained. "Basically, they even can go so far as to control all the four elements - earth, air, fire, water, although it really depends on the witch, as to which element she, or he, has the most affinity with. It differs from person to person. Why d'you ask?"

Paul and Richard filled Olli in on all the details of all that had happened on Saturday night, not sparing him the details as they had with Flake. 

"My God. Is that what happened to you? I wondered where you'd disappeared to on Saturday; I thought you'd just gone home, in all the melee; I kept meaning to call or pop in on you at Comic World, but I've been so busy cleaning this place up, that I just haven't had the time," Olli admitted, as he gestured towards Sanguine, alarm evident in his kind green eyes and the set of his mouth. "Jesus. If I'd known you were in trouble, I would have helped, or asked some of the regulars to help you. They would have, you know. You're one of us, now. We look after our own."

"I didn't exactly have the time to think about shit like that, Olli," Paul said, with a soft and self-deprecating laugh. "I was kind of desperate to get my mate back. We will remember to ask for help, if we need it, in future, though. If we get the time." 

He chuckled a little, and Olli and Richard both offered slight smiles in return. 

"I hope you do. Like I said, any one of the supernaturals will help you. You might want to talk to one of the elemental witches I mentioned earlier, actually. I think Adie really needs to know what happened on Saturday and she might even have some answers for you, if you want to ask her anything," Olli said. "Have you got a pen and paper? I'll give you her address." 

Richard happened to have both, and jotted down the address that Olli gave him. 

"She might not be at home, yet. I would ring beforehand, however, just to make sure she's available; not only is she the head witch of the Berlin coven, she also does a lot of magical work around Berlin itself and she's not always at home. Anyway, I'm sorry but I'm gonna have to appear really rude and get back to the grind. We have a lot to do still, despite everything the witches have done for us," Olli said, as he pointed over his shoulder at Sanguine.

"Okay; we might have kept you long enough, anyway. Sorry. How long before you open again?" Paul asked, as he cast a worried look towards the ruined gastro-pub.

"A few days," Olli said, with a shrug and a grin that softened his eyes and his expression. "You probably won't even tell the difference when it's done. That's when knowing a few elemental witches comes in handy." 

"I'll bet," Richard said, with a smile, even as Paul grinned beside him. "We can help you out ourselves if you want." 

"No, it's not necessary; thanks for the offer, though," Olli sighed, as he scrubbed exploratory fingers against his scalp wearily. "There's already more than enough bodies inside, as it is; Kris is all but tearing his hair out at the noise and confusion. He keeps yelling about cooks and broth and too many hands spoiling it." 

Richard and Paul laughed at that; they both knew Kris well enough by now to know that the master vampire was easily stressed out and was overly fond of throwing around ancient epithets and sayings whilst doing so. Olli grinned at their laughter, and didn't take offence on his employer's behalf. They all knew that despite his fits of anger, and his propensity for sucking blood on a nightly basis, Kris was actually a nice man to be around. Paul knew that he certainly liked, and respected the vampire, a great deal, and he could feel, over his soul-bond with Richard, that the Alpha dragon felt the same copper-coloured affection for Kris as Paul himself did. 

"Okay, but you know where to find us, if you change your mind," Richard said, as he slid one arm easily around Paul's waist.

Paul leant up against Richard, with a contented little dragon-purr rumbling in his chest, and received an amused, yet affectionate, kiss upon the temple from Richard for his efforts. Olli smiled at their easy affection, and love, for one another, before he cast another glance towards Sanguine again. 

"I'll remember that," he said, in response to Richard's offer. "Anyway, like I said, I'd best be making a move, or Kris will be hissing like an angered cat at me next, or worse, chomping on my neck for being lazy." 

He laughed, and bade the draconic couple a final goodbye, before he slipped away through the door of Sanguine once more. They watched as Olli aimed one last wave at them over his shoulder before he wound through the milling bodies inside and all but disappeared completely; Richard and Paul waved back and lingered on the pavement for a while, before finally meandering lazily away.

****

"So, when do you want to go and visit this head witch person, then, Reesh?" Paul yelled from the kitchen, as he poured boiling water from the kettle into two matching mugs, setting free the scent of coffee from the instant grounds he'd heaped liberally into the bottom of each. 

"I dunno, love," Richard called back, as he wound his way into the kitchen from the direction of the bathroom. "Maybe tomorrow night?"

"Okay," Paul yelled, even as Richard finally reached his side with a sudden grin.

"Stop yelling, dear; I'm not deaf, merely temporarily far away," Richard said, with a loud laugh, as he continued to towel dry his wet hair vigourously, making the wet strands stick out haphazardly in odd clumps from his scalp.

"Jesus Christ," Paul said, as he startled away from his mate. 

"Good guess, but not quite right," Richard chuckled, and ducked away from the elbow that Paul directed sharply towards his soft and unprotected abdomen. "And I take it, by your loud response, that you're in approval?" 

"To visiting Adie tomorrow? I should think so," Paul said, with a sigh. "I've made your coffee." 

"Okay, love. Let me just pop the towel into the tumble dryer, then I'll be with you," Richard replied, with a sigh, before he made his way from Paul's side to head for the utility room. 

Paul had already settled at the kitchen table when Richard had returned, sipping thoughtfully at his coffee, one chocolate covered biscuit held half-eaten in one hand. 

"I wonder what she'll be like? The witch, I mean," Paul prevaricated, when Richard gave him a questioning glance as he settled beside Paul at the table and plucked his mug from its wooden surface. 

"Well, I doubt she has green skin, warts or a flowing black cape, if that's what you're expecting, Paul," Richard offered, with a laugh. "She probably looks quite normal, in fact. She probably doesn't even have a cat for a familiar. I can imagine she has something like a terrapin, or something." 

"A terrapin?" Paul asked, with a sudden snort of laughter. "Why a bloody terrapin, for Christ's sake?"

"Well, you don't expect a witch to have one, do you?" Richard pointed out, as he snagged two chocolate biscuits for himself and crammed one into his mouth hungrily. 

"True," Paul agreed, with an amused little shrug. "I wonder if she'll do any magic? And no, I don't mean card tricks, or anything like that, before you ask. I don't even expect her to start yelling - Leviosa - randomly, either. Harry Potter reference, Reesh." 

This last was directed to his mate, when Richard gave him a wide-eyed stare of confusion, which bled out into an amused grin when the Alpha finally understood the reference.

"Geek," he muttered, from around a second mouthful of biscuit.

"Gecko," Paul countered, and stuck his tongue out at Richard when the Alpha feigned an expression of outrage. 

Richard's expression soon melted into a laugh, before he dunked the remainder of his first biscuit into his coffee and sucked it into his mouth hungrily. 

"Seriously though, I hope she does do something magical," Paul mused, wistfully. "I'd like to see something, just once." 

"Well, I doubt you should really ask her to show you something, love," Richard advised, worriedly. "She might think it an impertinent question, or something. She might turn you into a toad." 

"A toad," Paul balked, in disgust. "No way. I'm quite happy being a dragon, thank you very kindly." 

Richard merely grinned at him and took an appreciative sip of his coffee. Paul merely smiled back at him, yet maintained his silence, whilst musing upon their visit to the elemental witch. 

"I was thinking of heading for Adie's place after work," Richard said, as he sucked the last of his second biscuit into his mouth and reached for another handful. "How's that suit you?"

"Suits me just fine, I suppose," Paul laughed. "One time's as good as another to me." 

Richard merely munched and didn't give him a response. Paul grinned and plucked another biscuit for himself from the pile; he began to nibble his way around the edge of the biscuit, happily, yet neother dragon spoke, both too lost in their seperate thoughts to engage in conversation. Their silence was companionable, however, and once their coffee and biscuits had been consumed, they cleared their used mugs and plate away, before they headed to bed, and the pleasures it inevitably gave them. Little did they know that their visit to the witch would prove more magical than they expected.


	17. Chapter 17

The following day, Richard and Paul stood outside the house that belonged to the head witch of Berlin. Whilst they had expected something dark and gothic, what they actually were faced with was something far more non-descript, even normal, indistinguishable from any other house in Berlin. Paul had already pointed out the dearth of maniacally grinning garden gnomes posing on the minimal front lawn; Richard had pointedly ignored them, which had made Paul laugh. The fact that the Alpha had found the gnomes cheesy, even garishly offensive, was obvious and Paul found that he had to agree, at least with the cheesy aspect of them. 

After an interminable wait, the door was opened onto the grinning, welcoming face of Adrienne Belikov herself, who ushered them in with expansive motions of her hands, floral perfume flowing subtly around her body as she did so. 

"You must be Richard and Paul," she stated, rather than asked and Paul thought he even detected a faint American accent grinning through her admittedly excellent German. "Sorry for the wait; I was on the phone." 

"We are; thanks for seeing us," Richard offered, as the couple followed Adrienne into her expansive living room. 

Paul pointed discreetly at a terrarium behind Adrienne's back, which held a few slowly moving terrapins within its warmed depths. Richard suddenly spluttered a laugh, even as Adrienne followed the direction of his gaze and grinned at the terrapins.

"They're my familiars, or what pose as my familiars," she said, a little embarrassed by the sight of the small shelled creatures. "I never could get on with cats, as they mess with my hayfever; I always find that animals are always good for appearances, at least with some people. Humans never seem to think you're a proper witch unless you have some kind of animal nearby. Don't ask me why. Humans are weird. I think they'd shit a disappointed brick, if they found out that the power actually comes from inside the witch, not from another source. Anyway, I'm babbling. You wanted to see me about something?" 

Paul laughed, deciding that he liked Adrienne, despite the fact that he'd only just met her. He could tell, through his bond with Richard, that his mate also liked her, and the Alpha's amusement flowed hard upon the wheels of his immediate trust in waves of vivid violet. Paul couldn't help but think that Adrienne didn't seem as though she was the most powerful witch in her coven, let alone the entirety of Berlin; instead, she seemed normal, more like the proverbial girl next door type with glittering dark blue eyes and near-black hair that complemented the shade of her eyes. 

"We actually came here on the reccomendation of a friend of ours, who I think you know, as well. Oliver Riedel? Works at Sanguine?" Richard asked.

"Oh, sure, Olli! Nice guy," Adrienne said, with a grin, as she bade them sit down. "I've been helping to fix Sanguine, actually. Shocking state that place got itself into, isn't it?" 

"Hmm," Paul said, as he cast a glance towards Richard. "I think it is because of us that Sanguine actually got into that state, to begin with." 

"Yeah? How so?" Adrienne asked, in sudden interest. "I I thought I heard someone say it was an attack of some kind, but no one seems to know what happened; you know the score. Get three eye witnesses at the scene of a crime and you can guarantee the story will be different for each one." 

Paul and Richard smiled at her, and once again, Paul looked to Richard, in a clear plea for the Alpha to speak. That time, Adrienne noticed and she looked intrigued by the obvious deference.

"Before we explain what happened, d'you think you could explain to us what an elemental witch is, exactly?" Richard asked. "This isn't the first time that we've come into contact with one, and I think we both would appreciate some answers of our own." 

"This doesn't sound good," Adrienne said, but she tempered her sudden worry with an off-beat smile. "I will try to answer your questions as best as I can, but it's gonna be purely subjective. I can only tell you what I am, what a witch should be, y'know? It probably differs for another witch, in other words." 

"Okay," Paul said, with a shrug. "Makes sense." 

"Well, an elemental witch is no different to a normal witch, I guess, except we take our powers from the elements, hence our title," Adrienne said, in response to Richard's earlier question. "We can all, to a certain extent, manipulate the elements, whether it be the weather or fire or water. You name it, if it's natural and not man-made, then there's a chance that we can control it, or draw power from it, like I said. Even man-made stuff we can exert some sort of influence over, if we really work at it. We also each have our own specialties, I suppose you could say. I, for instance, can find lost objects; you lose it, I find it, no problem. If you drop things down the toilet, however, you're on your own. Others in my coven can speak to the dead, whilst still others can read minds. We also do spell-work, for those that need it or require it; most of the time, however, I do require a fee for my services, as most witches do. Even a witch has to earn money, sometimes, y'know? Luckily for you, though, information is free, and you're outside of business hours, anyway." 

Adrienne grinned at the laughter her words evoked, before she continued.

"Obviously, no witch is allowed to cause harm to humans, or even other supernaturals. That would be breaking some pretty hefty rules," she said. "I think I might have covered the basics, but if there's anything else you wanna shoot past me, go ahead. It's what I'm here for." 

"Thanks. I have to admit that it's all really interesting," Richard said, with a nod, as he grinned at Paul. "I hope you don't mind me telling you, Adrienne, but we've never met a real witch before. A nice one, that is." 

"I'm not as scary as you imagined, I'll bet," Adie laughed, already pretty face turning prettier still in her smiling mirth. "And please, call me Adie. Only the bank and my mother calls me Adrienne, and that's only when I'm in trouble. With the bank, as well as my mother." 

Paul and Richard laughed again, even as the witch cast them a curious look. 

"Okay, so now you know something about me, I'd like to know something about you. What are you two, exactly?" Adie asked, with great interest. "You're certainly nothing that I've ever come across before. You're not human, I know that much. I sense fire in your veins." 

"We're dragons," Richard said, and Adie nodded out her understanding.

"Ahhhh. Dragons. Now it all makes sense. Whilst we elemental witches can work with all elements, we have way more affinity over one element in particular, over any other. Mine happens to be fire, as you've probably guessed. So ... Richard, you're an Alpha, right?" she asked, with great interest. "And Paul, you're a Beta? I don't know if the dragon ranking system is anything like the werewolf pack system, but the way you both act with one another, it seems as though that you're more the leader of the two, Richard."

"Yes, that's right," Richard said, his surprise colouring his link with Paul and turning the spaces behind Paul's eyes a whirling bright white. "We are also actually a mated pair." 

"Yeah, I could tell," Adie said, with a fond smile at the pair. "You don't even have to be a witch to see that you're deeply in love with one another. Love is definitely something to be cherished and I don't even have to wish you luck with it. There ain't nothin' gonna break you two apart, I can tell." 

"Thank you," Paul said, as he turned a delighted grin upon Richard. 

Richard returned the smile and pushed a silver-flecked dragon-kiss through their link, a kiss which Paul immediately returned, coupled with a nuzzling Eskimo kiss. 

"Anyway, as to the reason why you are here," Adie stated, still grinning over their affectionate display. "You mentioned something, earlier, about coming into contact with an elemental witch before? Might I ask what happened, exactly?"

Paul nodded and looked to Richard, silently waiting for him to explain the situation. As Alpha dragon, Paul knew that Richard should have the floor and Richard once again took it, explaining all that had happened the weekend before, and all that he'd heard in the garage. Adie listened, carefully, peacefully and without judgement; she prompted Richard for more information, regarding the state of the weather in Berlin in recent times, and of the two murders that had occured prior to his bungled kidnap. She frowned at each new piece of information, and seemed quite perturbed when she heard about the fires that had broken out in Richard and Paul's apartment building, and in the bakery on Alexanderplatz. 

"What a bloody time to go back to Chicago," she mused, proving Paul right in his earlier assumptions over her American accent. "I had family issues, or else I would have been on hand to at least try and stop any of this from ever happening. I can assure you from all that you've told me that it wouldn't have been one of my coven running amok in Berlin; most of them were on holiday themselves, as it goes. It does sound as though it was more a rogue witch, or rather two rogue witches, working together, possibly employed by an outside party, if all that you overheard was anything to go by, Richard. Okay, it's a start and it might not seem it, but it's a very helpful one at that; let's try and get this shit sorted out between us, shall we? First things first; I don't know how much you know about blood magic?" 

"Nothing," Paul said, and Richard quietly confirmed the same beside him.

"I would have been surprised, and very worried, if you had, to be honest. Blood magic is an old rite, required to gain more power for the wielder, and not the kind of spellwork that witches frequently employ. In fact, we tend to discourage it when we can, as it's very potent, very dangerous work for all involved. Only a high witch, like me, should even attempt it, or the spell could quickly go south of the cloudy place," Adie explained, seriously, as she gestured towards the skies outside. "In fact, I'd even go so far as saying I think I know what spell they were trying to aim for, and it ain't pretty. Obviously, I can't tell you what it all actually involves, for your own safety, but I think you can probably gather that it does involve the draining of several victims, preferably supernatural ones with power over the four elements. Control all four elements, and one's power is limitless. In fact, with the right spell, and the right amount of blood, it renders the wielder all but unassailable. Ready to take over the world, in fact. Which leads me to my next question. This is very important that you answer this correctly. What were the murder victims, exactly?" 

"What were they? Oh, a were-bat and a vampire," Richard supplied, quietly, when Paul looked to him questioningly. 

"Okay, now this is making even more sense," Adie said, a look of understanding crossing her face at the news. "And it's very fortuitous for all of us, that that spell was never actually finished. They had two elements, already and would have had a third if they'd killed you, Richard. The bat, as you can imagine, is representative of the element of air, the vampire of earth, and the dragon of fire, obviously. I have no idea what the victim would have been for water but it could have been a selkie, or water wraith, or even your common Nessie-type creature. Like I said, luckily we'll never know."

"I don't understand why a vampire would be representative of earth. Like you said, the others are pretty self explanatory," Paul admitted, with an embarrassed smile. 

Adie didn't seem to think it a strange question, for which Paul was relieved. 

"The vampire is the undead, a thing of the earth and of dust, in much the same way a zombie, a ghoul or a revenant would be," Adie explained patiently.

"I see," Richard nodded, with a look of understanding upon his face. "But what I don't understand is what the fires, or what that figure in the clouds that we saw had to do with blood magic?" 

"Well, the fires, and the high temperatures are probably just the by-product of two very inept, and idiotic, witches, unable to control their own spells," Adie snorted roughly. "It ain't the first time a spell's gotten the better of a witch and it won't be the last time, either. As for the figure in the clouds, it's an old surveillance trick; it's a spell you use if you wanna spy on someone, basically. Pretty basic spell; even I do that one, 'cos it's not exactly harmful, merely ... annoying, and even embarrassing sometimes. The amount of times I've seen people in the nude that I didn't particularly want to, if you know what I mean."

"I can imagine," Richard said, with a smile as Paul suddenly hooted with laughter beside him. 

Adie grinned at them, before her face grew decidedly more serious.

"There is one thing that bothers me, is who these people are, that first employed the rogues," she said. "I don't suppose you'd be able to shed any light on that?"

"Actually, I think I might," Richard said. "At least a little."

Paul looked with worry towards his mate, before he asked - "Are you sure you can do this?" 

Once again, he remembered the nightmares that Richard often suffered, and the tales that the Alpha had told him of the time he'd spent in New York. 

"No," Richard said, and even that one word seemed to come with an effort. "But I have to say something, dear. It's gonna help, isn't it?"

He seemed almost to require an answer, or even permission, then, and Paul wasn't quite sure what was required of him; Richard was the Alpha, after all, and so was the one who made the decisions, never Paul. Paul nodded, however, and Richard gave him a tight smile in return. When the two dragons turned back to Adie, it was to find the witch patiently watching them, waiting for them to reach a decision whilst they talked. She smiled, encouragingly, yet did not speak, merely listened whilst Richard briefly outlined all that had happened to him in New York. Paul reached blindly for him halfway through the tale, and gripped Richard's hand; he felt the Alpha clinging desperately to him, and saw the utter desperation and fear behind his eyes in a mangled mess of ever-shifting colours, yet still Richard managed to tell Adie all that she needed to know of his past. Once he'd finished, Adie sighed and also reached for Richard, before she took the Alpha's other hand. 

"If only I could take all this pain away, I would do, my dear," she said, softly. "But there is little I can do to help, at least with the pain. You have to take strength in the love of your Beta; he's the only one who can really heal you, now, more so than I ever could." 

"I do take strength from him," Richard said, and Paul could all but taste the truth of his words over their link. "Constantly. I would have gone mad by now, if it wasn't for Paul being there for me." 

Paul sighed and leant in, pressed wordless kisses against Richard's mouth and tried to push as much love as he could into his mate's body over their soul-bond; Richard returned every kiss, and seemed to take comfort in them, in Paul's closeness, in his unspoken and continued loving support. Richard leant up against Paul, once the kisses had ended, and turned his face to Adie. Once again, she was watching them, sympathy in her eyes and in the set of her mouth, and once again, she squeezed Richard's hand.

"There is something I can do for you, if you'll let me," she said, quietly, with the beginnings of a cheeky grin tugging at her eyes and the corners of her mouth. 

"Of course," Richard said, a little baffled. "What is it?" 

"You, my dear dragons, are going to be treated to some magic," Adie said, with a grin.


	18. Chapter 18

Paul watched with interest as Adie eased out a medium sized bowl from an intricately carved wooden chest that stood at the side of the room; she placed it upon the table that stood between her own body and the dragons, before she excused herself for a few moments. Paul glanced at Richard, then, and felt his lover's confusion filtering over their link in eddying washes of lavender. Richard merely shrugged, silently, at Paul when he realised that the Beta was looking at him; Paul merely huffed back at him, and grinned, merely glad for the fact that he wasn't the only one who wasn't certain as to what was going on. Adie returned to the room, then, awkwardly carrying a jug before her; Paul could smell clean spring-water inside, and saw the clear liquid arcing from the lip of the jug as she poured it into the bowl.

"What are you going to do, exactly?" Richard asked, curiously, earning himself an amused smile from Adie.

"I'm gonna do some scrying, my little dragonet," she said, brightly, as her smile turned into a full-blown grin and a chuckle. 

"Some what now?" Paul asked, in alarm, as he stiffened beside Richard. "Is that dangerous?"

Again, Adie laughed, yet not unkindly, and reached out to pat Paul's knee gently. 

"No, dear, it's not dangerous. It's a spell; well, it's more of a simple little trick, really," she explained, warmly. "And nothing to worry your pretty head about. Remember I told you about the surveillance trick those rogue elemental witches pulled on you? With the clouds? Well, this is a similar thing; I can use this water as a conduit between myself and whomever I want to spy on. Basically what happens is, that I can conjure up visions on the surface of a flat expanse of water, and it's kinda like watching through a one way mirror, but not quite so clear or reliable. I need to use the purest spring water for this or it won't work." 

"So you have a spring here? I didn't think we had things like that in Berlin," Richard asked, suspiciously. 

"We don't," she said, with a guilty grimace. "I actually bought this from LIDL. It's still pure though, or pure enough for what I need it for. Shocking, isn't it? Witches needing to resort to buying spring water from LIDL? You'd think we were like normal people, or something." 

Richard and Paul laughed loudly at that, which earned them a beautiful grin from Adie. 

"Well, even us dragons need to shop in LIDL or Aldi every week, believe it or not. Anyway, I suppose it saves filching water from the church, or is that more Holy Water?" Paul asked, feeling a little confused.

"That's not the sort of thing I need for my spell-work, unfortunately," Adie said, with a rough snort. "Not pagan enough. Anyway and anyhoo, let's get on, shall we? Time's pressing and I'm sure you must have places to go to. I'm only keeping you." 

"No, actually, you're not. This has all been really interesting so far," Richard assured her, and Paul could feel the gentle wash of his mate's truthfulness coiling gently over their soul-bond.

Adie merely grinned her thanks at him, before she sighed and asked a question. 

"I'm going to need something of yours, Richard, if you don't mind," she said. "It doesn't matter what, just anything that comes into regular contact with your body."

"Other than Paul, you could always have my wallet, I suppose; that's always in constant contact with my body," Richard said, as he dug his wallet from the depths of his jeans pocket. "No offence, but I am gonna get this back, aren't I?" 

"Of course you are," Adie snorted, roughly. "I'm a witch, not a thief. Although I won't be able to magic more money into it, if that's what you're after. I wish I could do things like that, but I'm not that good. I'm sorry." 

Richard and Paul laughed at that, even as the Alpha handed his wallet to Adie. She thanked him, and clutched it tightly between her hands, before she sighed, nodded, and continued holding onto it with her left hand. She then passed her free hand over the surface of her water-filled bowl, a frown of concentration pulling dark brows low over her equally dark eyes. She sighed, and muttered something that neither dragon understood, before a sound of satisfaction crossed her lips and she gestured for Paul and for Richard to crowd round the edges of the bowl with her. She pressed one finger to her lips, denoting the need for silence as they watched a scene playing out upon the surface of the water, reminiscent of a crackly reception on a bad TV set, ever-shifting and amorphous, as though the connection was due to be lost with the slightest breeze. Paul watched with amazement, as two dragon-shifters shook hands in the midst of a dilapidated warehouse that Paul didn't recognise; he glanced over in shock at Richard, when he felt a sudden, weighted wash of black anger and depression descending over his lover, and the utter blue fear that threaded its way through the blackness.

"Reesh?" Paul asked, as he reached for his mate, desperately, tenderly.

Adie also looked up, alerted to something happening by Paul's voice more than anything else; an expression of alarm crossed her pretty face when she saw the stricken expression upon the Alpha dragon's face.

"Are you all right, dear?" she asked Richard, in increasing alarm and concern.

"No, he's not," Paul said, when Richard didn't answer. "He's angry, and scared. Darling, what's wrong? Please tell me." 

He turned his attentions upon Richard again, tightening his hold upon his mate's hand when Richard turned a stricken expression upon him.

"It's them," Richard choked out, as he pointed to the dragons reflected in the surface of the water. "They're two of the guys who kept me prisoner in New York." 

"Jesus," Paul said, as he turned to Adie. "Can you switch that off? Or whatever it is you do with that shit? I don't think Reesh needs this." 

"No," Richard said, roughly, sharply, as he reached for Adie to stop her doing anything at all. "Let's hear what they've got to say."

"I don't think this is wise, dear," Paul advised, worriedly.

"Just for a little while," Richard insisted, yet Paul could feel Richard's uncertainty, his continued fear and anger coursing in muddied waves over their link. 

"If this shit gets too much for you, I'm calling this off," Paul said, and was glad when Richard at least nodded, silently agreeing to Paul's suggestion.

Paul watched his face for a while, before he finally nodded to Adie, who watched them, curiously, eyes clouded with confusion. 

"Do this quickly," Paul said, when Adie didn't move.

Adie nodded, and returned her attentions down to the bowl again, where the men had moved slightly and seemed to be engaged in heated conversation. 

"Seems like our agents in Berlin failed us," one of the men was saying in a broad Brooklyn accent. "They didn't get to Kruspe. In fact they seemed ready to double-cross us." 

"But why?" the other man asked. 

"The same thing we all want," the first man said. "They want power for themselves, don't they? Over-reached themselves and now they're dead." 

"But Kruspe's dead, right?" the other man asked, body shifting impatiently as he glanced about the barely discernible warehouse that surrounded them.

"He still lives," the man with the Brooklyn accent said. "And he's got another one with him. His mated whelp. Seems like we have to take that guy down as well." 

"When?" the other man asked.

"When we're strong enough," the first man replied. "Soon. When we find an Alpha willing to lead us into war, and to sacrifice himself in the process. If Kruspe doesn't want to take the war to the humans, then we take the war to him."

"When?" the other man asked again.

"Soon," the first man repeated, before the vision faded away completely as though it had never been.

The surface of the water returned to its formerly blank, and motionless state and Adie sighed in frustration. 

"I'm sorry, but that seems to be all that I can conjure for you, today," Adie said, apologetically, as she turned a concerned gaze upon the dragons. "Sometimes these things go on for longer, sometimes shorter. I wish I could get something more; it seemed really important. I'm sorry. I could try again, if you wanted."

Paul thought that she seemed genuinely contrite, eager to help, yet still Richard shook his head firmly at her.

"I've seen enough. You've done more than enough; thank you, Adie. You have been a great help," he said, as he stood. "I think we've kept you long enough; we should be going. Come on, Paul." 

Paul sighed, but offered no protest; instead, he smiled sadly at Adie and got to his feet. Adie stared hard at Richard, yet Paul could see nothing but sadness, and sympathy in her eyes. 

"You should be going," she agreed, softly. "But any time you need me, you just come straight round, ya hear? And I'm quite often at Sanguine; well, when it's not burned to a crisp, I am. You can always find me there, if I'm not here."

"Okay; we'll do that," Richard said, with a smile that was genuine, if tempered a little with sadness, and black depression. 

He turned away and began to head for the front door; Paul began to follow in his wake, yet Adie caught a hold of his hand, and gently held him back.

"You look after that Alpha of yours," Adie said, quietly, to the Beta. "I think he needs it, now more than ever." 

"I always look after him," Paul told her, gently. "He's my life." 

Adie nodded, and reluctantly let go of his hand; Richard had stopped in the living room doorway and was staring back at them, face blank and expressionless. Adie sighed and moved past the Alpha to open the front door for them, repeating, once again, her entreaty to visit her whenever they wanted. 

"Hell, just come on round for coffee and cake, if you want it," she said, with a laugh. "Any time. I like you. I have a feeling we're gonna be good friends." 

"We both like you, too, and I'm sure we will be. We'll definitely remember your offer," Paul promised, when Richard didn't immediately speak. "It's very kind of you." 

Adie grinned, nodded, but didn't say anything more; instead, she watched as they headed down the garden path, back to their car once more.


	19. Chapter 19

"She seemed nice," Richard said, as they drove away from Adie's house. 

"Yeah, she did, didn't she?" Paul replied, with a nod and a smile, but his grin was half-hearted.

It seemed as though Richard was attempting to divert the conversation away from all that they'd seen and heard in the scrying bowl, yet Paul knew that they couldn't avoid it forever. Still, however, he kept his silence, knowing it wise to allow Richard his space, to choose his time to talk when he felt more comfortable doing so. Richard also kept his silence, and when they pulled up outside their flat, he stopped Paul outside their front door, an intense look upon his face and a frown across his brows. Despite the inensity of his expression, a vague smile still touched his mouth and he leant in, to press a harsh and heated kiss against Paul's mouth; Paul returned the kiss, surprised.

"Thank you," Richard said, when the kiss had finally ended. "For trying to look after me. For looking after me, I should say." 

"You're welcome, dear," Paul said, gently as he lifted one hand to press it gently against Richard's cheek. "I worry about you, you know."

"I know. I can feel your worry, you know," Richard reminded him, as he tapped Paul's chest meaningfully. "And your love for me."

Paul could only smile at him; he knew that it was impossible to hide his feelings from the other dragon when Richard could feel everything that Paul was feeling as though it was his own emotion, and could see everything in a wash of rainbow light behind his eyes. Paul sighed, turned back to the door and unlocked it when it seemed obvious that Richard had nothing else to say.

****

That night, Richard had another nightmare, waking Paul up with his screams, and waves of black and blue anger and terror, hands scrabbling against Paul once the Alpha was awake, clinging to him as though he never would let the Beta go again. Paul closed his eyes against the terror that he shared with his Alpha, and he made soothing noises, as he rocked his mate gently against his body, pressing kisses and caressing Richard's back gently to calm him.

"I'm here, darling, I'm here," he murmured, time and again. "I've got you. I love you." 

It took longer that night for Richard to calm, to settle, and the tears that leaked slowly from his eyes soaked into Paul's t-shirt and his skin, as unremarked upon as the tears that had been shed before after other nightmares. Paul held him throughout it all, pushing wave after wave of love and comfort into his mate's body, soothing him, comforting him, loving him. That night, they shared cake and hot chocolate in bed, cuddled together beneath the covers as they did so, Richard's head cushioned against the curve of Paul's broad shoulder. 

"It was horrible, Paulchen," Richard said, finally, quietly. "I was dreaming that they'd kidnapped me again."

Paul didn't need to ask who 'they' were; he knew. He remained silent, and pressed a sticky chocolate-y kiss against his mate's cheek, one hand smoothing its way across Richard's back. 

"When d'you think they'll come?" Richard asked, eventually, breaking the silence between them. 

"I don't know," Paul said, quietly. "But we'll be ready for them, when they come." 

Richard nodded, but said nothing else. Paul sighed and held his mate close, when Richard snuggled against his body. He remained holding onto him long after Richard had fallen into sleep, but it took Paul longer to attain sleep of his own. Instead, he worried about their future, about what was in store for them both, yet he knew, somehow, that they would be all right.

****

In the morning, Paul awoke to find that Richard already was awake, and had brought him coffee and toast in bed. Paul, surprised, tucked into his early morning breakfast, smiling on occasion beneath Richard's scrutiny.

"What's so funny?" Richard asked, in amusement, despite his confusion.

"You are," Paul said. "You're like a mother hen, making sure I get enough food." 

"I am making sure you get enough food," Richard insisted, yet not without a laugh of his own and a surge of red-tinged embarrassment washing over their link. "I can look after my own mate, can't I? You look after me, enough." 

"I know, dear," Paul told him, softly. "And it's very much appreciated. Thank you." 

Richard merely nodded, and accepted the gentle kiss that Paul gave him. He waited until Paul had finished his coffee before he leant in again, to brush his lips against Paul's. Paul sighed into the kiss and returned it, eyes closing as Richard settled gently against him. They did little more than kiss at first, mouths meeting and parting softly, before those kisses were accompanied by caresses, which turned into gropes; Paul eased onto his back without prompting. legs resting near to his shoulders in open invitation, an invitation that Richard grinningly accepted. And when their bodies joined, it was with gentle sighs of mutual love and satisfaction, pure happiness flooding their link as Richard tenderly made love to Paul, Paul's body arching up against the Alpha's with aroused cries of encouragement. And when they climaxed, it was with each other's names upon their lips, soft and murmured, and filled with tender longing that they heard as well as felt over their link.

"We'll be all right, won't we?" Richard asked, as they lay beside one another once it was over.

"Of course we will. Whilst we still are together, nothing will hurt us," Paul promised him. "And I'm never leaving you." 

"And you'll have a hard job getting rid of me," Richard said, with a grin. "I love ya, ya bastard." 

"Good; love ya, too. I don't want you to go," Paul said, with a contented smile, even as Richard eased on top of him again, ready to make love one more time that morning.


	20. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought it best to warn for this, but whilst it's not strictly bestiality, there is attempted dragon-on-dragon sexy-times in this chapter. If that doesn't sound like your kind of thing, don't read it; I did pre-warn you about it.

****

**_one week later_ **

The midday air was heated, and felt humidly heavy against the exposed expanse of Paul's bare skin, as he stepped out of the last of his clothing. Despite the fact that he knew there was no one else there, he checked around him all the same, every movement and glance swift and nervous. He felt reassured, however, when he saw that there was no one else there apart from himself, and Richard nearby, who, as ever, was the only one permitted to see Paul in this state.

They'd travelled to their usual spot outside Berlin, to fly above the trees over their habitual spots; that day was tempered with a certain determination, to practice their flying, to hone into something battle-ready and dangerous, to perhaps even to practice a few mock-fights if they had the time or were up to it. With the looming threat of a potential war, they both knew that they needed as much practice as they could get, in everything. Neither one of them knew when those skills would be needed, after all. 

Richard was staring at Paul, gaze as heated as the air, and smile as lustful as it ever was whenever Paul was naked. That day was slightly different however, yet Paul couldn't exactly pinpoint why; it wasn't just the fact that they had the threat of war hanging over their heads. There seemed to be a certain shivering, shuddering expectancy in the air, weighted and watchful and incredibly arousing. Paul already was partially hard beneath the weight of that expectancy and Richard's gaze combined, and he turned into the other man when he felt Richard step close, to run one hand over Paul's cock, skin warm and slightly sweat damp against his flesh. Paul groaned and leant into Richard's touch, flesh and body responding in the same way that it always did whenever his lover was close; he grew harder still when Richard continued to stroke him, and he cursed sharply, viciously when Richard tarted to move away again, fingers sliding across his erect length, pulling shuddering groans from Paul's chest, before those fingers fell away completely, leaving Paul hard and unfulfilled and fully erect. 

Richard smiled, eyes resting appreciatively upon Paul's erection, and Paul soon become distracted from his own discomfort by the sight of his lover undressing. Richard's tanned skin slowly became exposed to the light and Paul could see the hints of muscles flexing and contracting beneath Richard's skin with every movement the other man made. Paul started touching himself when he saw how hard Richard was, boxers pushed roughly away to reveal the other man was as fully erect as Paul was. Paul, again, had that sense of waiting, of watching, of almost-danger and he started working his hand harder against his cock, pained whines working their way from his throat as he did so. He wanted to come, and he almost did, yet Richard stepped in and gripped his wrist gently.

"Stop," Richard said, with enough order and bite in his tone to make Paul actually do so, even though his first instinct was to carry on until completion.

He was so close, lust and arousal fizzing in pin-prick expectancy in his abdomen, yet he gritted his teeth against it and tried to ignore it. Richard smiled when he realised that Paul had actually listened and had obeyed him; Paul was rewarded by a kiss that was almost chaste, lips pressing warmly against lips. Paul sighed into that kiss, and smiled, yet Richard stepped away before the kiss turned dirty and into something else entirely. Paul missed the loss of his lover's body against his, and the glorious slide of bare skin against his own. He remembered the nights they'd lain together, of Richard making love to him hard and fast and desperate, as if those nights would prove to be their last and they would never have the chance to lay with each other again. Of course, they always did, and Paul had no intention of ever leaving Richard. 

Richard stepped in again and cupped one hand against Paul's neck, fingers digging and massaging into his flesh and Paul closed his eyes, leant back into Richard's touch, erection sliding alongside the other man's, with that one movement. Richard groaned and Paul felt the soft heated exhalation of his lover's breath skimming over the exposed curve of his cheek, and he repeated the gesture, hips surging forward to create more friction between them; Richard started meeting him thrust for thrust , control crumbling momentarily and Paul opened his eyes, started to thrust mindlessly, climax building in his abdomen and he almost released, yet Richard stepped away again and Paul cursed, anger heating his tones at that.

"Change for me," Richard said, yet those words did not come without effort. 

Paul could smell Richard's arousal heavy and thick upon the air, yet he tried his best to ignore that and concentrate on his transformaition. He relaxed, felt the first rippling shifts and cracks of muscles and bone as they realigned into new shapes and configurations, felt the first rip of muscular wings ripping through his back, and the flowing of scales in place of skin. Within a few minutes, he stood in his draconic form, towering above Richard, and he could smell his lover's pleasure and his arousal ever more keenly than even in his human form. Even then, his senses were sharper, more pronounced than they once had been, and he watched as Richard, too, changed into his dragon form, soft dark green in place of Paul's midnight blue. 

Paul wound round Richard's body, neck and tail and wings rubbing and buffeting against Richard's; he purred and rumbled in pleasure when Richard responded without hesitation, head swinging to rub alongside Paul's before he wound his neck against Paul's, one shoulder shoving gently, yet purposefully against him as though encouraging Paul to take to the air. Paul huffed and rubbed one scaled cheek against Richard's shoulder, before he waddled away, gait still a little ungainly upon the ground; he was grateful for being more graceful in the air, wings steady and slowly beating against the thermals. 

Almost as soon as he'd taken off, he felt Richard behind him and was surprised when the other shifter barelled up alongside him, wings buffeting him and shoulder nudging him awkwardly in mid-air; Paul's neck almost became tangled with Richard's own and he angled away, concerned that Richard had perhaps bungled his leap into the air. He didn't think that likely, however, as Richard was better at flying than he was, more skilled and steady upon the thermals; he turned and twisted in the air again, as Richard nudged alongside him again, sudden deep huffs of laughter emanating from Richard's chest. Paul caught something else beneath those draconic laughs, something darker, deeper, more lustful and then Paul caught a scent of Richard's arousal, stronger now, keener and more potent, coupled with the bright rill of cerise desire behind his eyes. Paul felt a sudden corresponding surge of lust and he turned his head further into Richard's personal space, nudged him without bidding and wheeled away, tightly rolling as Richard's dragon-laughter grew louder, more triumphant as he gave chase.

Paul banked and wheeled, and slowed to the point where Richard had almost caught him, before he wheeled away again, bright trumpeting laughter rilling through the air at having escaped Richard's clutches once more. Richard gave chase and despite the fact that the other dragonshifter pretended annoyance, Paul could scent the lie on the breeze, and could see in a bright wash of heated pink behind his eyes that Richard was happy, beneath it all. 

Paul banked and wheeled again, after Richard had almost once again caught him; he caught the scent of Richard's arousal again, stronger still and Paul felt his body tightening and reacting to his mate's lust, coupled with the beginnings of an erection as his cock began to slide free of its protective sheath. Richard wheeled closer still, keen nose catching the scent of Paul's growing arousal, interested growls rumbling in his chest at that; Paul rumbled an interested response back, even as he banked, wheeled, slowed, pretended weariness, and allowed Richard to catch him, at last. Richard's forelegs clamped around Paul's body with a loud bugle of triumph; Paul twisted in surprise when he felt Richard's tail lashing tightly around his own, and Richard's jaws clamping securely, yet gently, upon his neck, further binding Paul's body against his own. Their bodies entwined, whilst still maintaining flight and Paul turned back against Richard's body, as his cock grew harder at the intimacy of the moment, body acting on instincts older than they were. He felt Richard's erection pressing against his hip, as the other dragon was fully hard now; he felt the sharp, heated blasts of Richard's aroused breathing against his neck as the other dragon shifted his hips against him. Richard's breathing grew heavier still as he attempted to penetrate Paul mid-flight. Richard purred against Paul as his cock began to slide inside Paul's body; Paul lost control in his sudden surprise over the intrusion, and plummeted to the ground, great draconic body flapping and flailing and turning over in bowling sweeps until a tree stopped his fall. Richard landed more sedately than Paul had done, yet when Richard nosed over, it was to find that the shock of the fall had made Paul shift back into human form. 

Paul felt Richard's scaled heated muzzle press up against his soft abdomen, scenting desperately whilst seeking for injury, breath hot and blasting against Paul's sensitive skin; Richard's anxiety was an almost blinding wash of turquoise inside Paul's head, coupled with a darker blue twist of fear, that told Paul that Richard was frightened that he'd hurt Paul. Paul knew he was unharmed yet found himself distracted by the feel of Richard so close, warm and real and magical against him. He reached up, spread his hands alongside Richard's scaled cheeks, rubbed his fingers over the dragon's eye-ridges, and Richard gave a huffing groan as Paul began openly caressing him, laid reassuring kisses against Richard's scaled muzzle, fingers exploring as much as he could reach of his lover's body, never once pushing him away when he knew that Richard could easily have disembowelled him. Paul trusted Richard with his very life and knew that the other shifter would never purposefully hurt him. He pushed an amber wash of reassurance over their link, trying to tell Richard without words that he was fine, that he wasn't hurt, and that reassurance was purposefully chased by a blinding tickle of golden dragon-love. 

Richard stepped away, glad to note that Paul was unharmed by his fall. Paul waited until Richard had shifted back into human form, before he struggled to his feet, yet he didn't have time to say or do anything much, before Richard was upon him, pressing him up against the nearby tree, mouth locking tightly against his own. Paul felt Richard's very obvious erection pressing up against his thigh and his own body reacted again; the erection he'd lost in his unexpected crash returned and he grabbed a hold of Richard's hand, angled it between his legs until Richard was holding him, fingers immediately stroking at Paul's flesh until he was fully erect again.

Richard pulled away and led Paul in amongst the trees; he turned Paul around and pressed the Beta's forearms first against one of the trees; he pushed one knee between Paul's legs, until Paul spread for him. Paul's breath was uneven and choppy, excitement boiling in his gut as he heard Richard spitting into his hand behind him. A few moments later and Richard was working him open, spit-slick fingers sliding in and out; Paul rocked back into his lover's palm, keening whines pleading for more working in his throat and in his chest, until Richard was satisfied that he was prepared enough for him. Paul waited, when Richard eased his hand away, before his lover's fingers were replaced by the thicker feel of his cock, pressing in and thrusting deep inside him. Paul rocked back into Richard's body when the other man began easing away again, until they found their rhythm, hips slapping against hips, Richard's hands gripping at Paul's hips so harshly his fingers pulled bruises from his skin. 

Paul began touching himself, eyes staring blindly as he lost himself to the feel of Richard against him, inside him and the feel of his own hand upon his flesh; behind him, he could hear the sounds of Richard coming closer to his climax, and Paul yelled in sudden surprise when Richard's mouth attached itself to his shoulder, teeth cutting into his flesh deep enough to draw blood. Paul's climax hit after that, pulled from him with a scream of Richard's name as he released hard across his palm and the tree before him; he was still coming when Richard's body went still against him and then started moving again, erratically, cries of aroused completion soon muffled against Paul's shoulder as Richard found release insie Paul. 

In time, Richard drew away and wrapped strong arms around Paul's body from behind, mouth soothing kisses against the place upon Paul's tortured shoulder where he'd been bitten. Paul arched back into him, eyes closing and smiling before he wriggled awkwardly in his lover's arms to turn fully around. He rested his forehead against Richard's shoulder, arms sliding comfortably around his lover's waist; he stood there, re-learning how to breathe, as Richard soothed comforting patterns upon his back. Their love-making had always been good, yet that time it seemed different, more intense, more special somehow, but Paul didn't know how to put it all into words. Instead, he leant against Richard, allowed the other man to walk him backwards to press up against the tree, to press gentle kisses against his cheeks, his eyelids, his smiling mouth.

"I love you, Paulchen," Richard murmured against him. 

"I love you too, my darling," Paul returned, before he gave Richard a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

He felt the return of some of his previous lust, strong and undeniable and ancient, and Richard growled against him, pushed harder against Paul's body so that Paul could feel the first stirrings of his mate's cock against his thigh. Paul panted against Richard's shoulder, even as Richard began running one hand over Paul's cock, until Paul was fully erect again. Richard leaned away, a dark look of longing in his eyes and a lustful grin upon his face. Richard growled, and eased Paul gently to the ground, before the Alpha settled atop him, familiar weight hot and pressing down upon him. 

Paul moaned, and arched up into his mate's body as Richard eased inside him, knowing that whatever happened to them in the future, would be as nothing to what was happening to them now. As long as they were together, Paul knew they would fight, and they would love, and they would face anything, as long as they had each other. He, for one, had something very real to fight for, after all, and he knew that Richard, in turn, would to the death for Paul. And when Paul came, it was with a yell of Richard's name, pleasure and ecstasy mingling with Richard's own pleasure and love, and somehow, Paul knew that they'd be all right.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this chapter marks the end of Sanguine. I hope you've enjoyed it. 
> 
> And ... I think it's time for me to make an announcement that is gonna be very hard for me to make, so bear with me through this. I just thought I'd let let you know that no more stories will be posted to this account. Ordinarily, I dislike leaving a story-arc half-finished, but I feel like I can't carry on with it, at least I won't on here. All stories thus far will not be deleted, as I want them archived for my own reference. This decision has not been made lightly, and has been on the cards since last November (when I left tumblr.) I still will be around to read some stories and leave some comments here and there. 
> 
> Please be assured that I still love Rammstein (and Paul, of course!!!) as much as I ever have and that my OTP is still Paul/Richard; I can't see that changing in the foreseeable future. I just don't want to be here any more. I am currently in the process of moving over to Wattpad, where I feel happier and where I have had a more positive experience in the short time that I've been posting there thus far. 
> 
> Thank you to all those of you who have regularly left comments and kudos on my work over the last few years; as always that's much appreciated. 
> 
> So. That's it! I don't know what else to say, or even what I could say any more, other than saying that this is Silent So Long, literally becoming 'silent so long' on AO3.


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